Wicked Thoughts and Worthless Efforts
by osbourne20
Summary: Blackgate Penitentiary. Within its walls lies pain and suffering, where survival is dependent upon strength and strategy, where a shred of weakness leaves one vulnerable from all sides. This is where he awakens, where his wrath will consume. Hell spat him back once, it will do it again. This is where he rises. - Bane/OC
1. Chapter 1: Healing

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

_It is when we start working together that the real healing takes place... it's when we start spilling our sweat, and not our blood. -David Hume_

The reclamation of Gotham City was a slow and arduous ordeal.

As the cloud of fear and oppressive 'liberation' cleared, as sanity and civility was restored, the people of Gotham came together to heal despite their weariness.

But could they ever become as they were?

Their lives had been saved, but what of their souls?

How many had reveled at the terror and suffering of others?

Some wondered if there was any way they could rebuild after the reckoning.

Others said there was nothing this city could not handle, even with the bodies slowly appearing from beneath the melting ice of the bay, heinous reminders of cruelty rising from the depths.

Still, they grieved for friends and family.

For the Batman.

Gotham mourned the loss of its Dark Knight, but through his demise they received their redemption, and it fell to Commissioner Jim Gordon to lead, reign in the chaos of the war torn city.

His lies and deception were forgiven, and the people once again put their trust in him to give them the peace they so desperately needed.

What was left of the police force scrambled to wrangle up the rest of the escaped convicts, their only saving grace was that island which held Arkham Asylum was never 'liberated'.

When spring awakened the earth, Gotham once again rose from the ashes. Schools and offices were reopened, crime retreated back within its normal limits, people returned to their livelihoods.

The city persevered.

_Gothamites_ persevered.

Rebuilt.

Endured.

Survived.

* * *

_**Seven weeks after the Batman's Death**_

Commissioner Jim Gordon walked down the silent hall of Gotham General, his footsteps echoing along the walls. Despite the busy waiting room, the Chief of Medicine insisted on keeping the entire north wing of the hospital closed.

_'We've had enough terror over the last six months,' he had said, 'I don't need a bloodbath in my ICU."_

Gordon had agreed.

If the public found out about this, the backlash would be catastrophic. Only a select few knew what was occurring on the premises, and he hoped to keep it that way.

Slowing his steps, he rounded the corner to see four of GCPD's finest standing on guard. Gordon nodded at them before peeking through the narrow window in the door.

"They're already in there, sir," one of the officers said.

Gordon sighed and nodded a thanks before going into the room.

As soon as he entered, three of the four occupants in the room looked over at him.

The Chief of Medicine, Dr. Holmes, immediately greeted him grimly, his hands obviously clenched into fists as he buried them deeper into the pockets of his lab coat.

The nurse, Amelia Grant, smiled softly at the Commissioner before going back to checking the chart in her hands while the head surgeon stayed near the window, his expression dark.

The fourth laid motionless, eyes closed as the machine beside him beeped rhythmically.

"What's his status?" Gordon asked, glancing over at the unconscious, hulking form that was strapped down.

"The infection is gone," Dr. Holmes said, "he's finally stable enough to move."

Gordon sighed in relief, moving closer to the man who nearly wiped Gotham from the map. He was still more beast than man. Even with over a month of convalescence, his stature was daunting.

"The warden at Blackgate is aware of the situation," Gordon informed, "He'll be ready as soon as I give him the go ahead."

"He's not going to Arkham?" Amelia asked.

"No, a few shrinks want to take look at him, but we're recommending Blackgate. They have a hard enough time controlling the Joker over at Arkham, putting the two of them under the same roof would be a mistake," he replied, moving towards the man's injured side.

"We should have let him die," the surgeon, Dr. Reyes, said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gordon's shoulders slumped for a moment, knowing that so many would share this belief.

"I've wronged the citizens of this city enough. They need closure and killing this man in a dark room will not give them that. If the shrinks deem him mentally competent, he'll be put on death row. The feds have been trying to snatch him from us, but the government left us to handle this on our own, and that's how we'll finish it. But until they stick that needle in his arm to kill him, we're doing this by the book. We've had enough lawlessness."

Reyes reluctantly nodded, turning his glare back onto their patient.

"We'll have him ready to be moved as soon as tomorrow."

"Have the ambulance ready at dawn. Less people around that way."

Dr. Holmes nodded as Gordon headed towards the door to leave.

"Commissioner?" Amelia asked, stepping towards him. When he turned to face her, she continued. "I've been meaning to ask. Whatever happened to the mask?"

"Locked away for now," Gordon answered, glancing at the prone man's face. "I only pray that it, like its owner, will never see the light of day again."

"What was it for?"

Since they found him laying in the debris, they never once allowed him to become conscious so speaking with him was not possible. Everything about the man was still a mystery.

"I don't know. We'll let him come out of the medically induced coma at Blackgate. Maybe then we'll get some answers," he mentioned, ducking his head before exiting the room.

Another nod was directed at the officers as he started down the long, lonely corridor, his hand digging around in his coat pocket for his cell phone. As he continued, gaining more distance from his latest secret, he dialed.

The phone rang a few times and he stilled as he came to the elevator, taking a weary breath as the other line picked up and ushered a greeting before Gordon responded.

"I need to talk to Victor Zehrhard."

* * *

"Donna!"

The portly, middle aged woman jumped at the sound of the shout, placing a hand over her chest as her heart fluttered.

Warden Williams, God rest his soul, never bellowed at her, even when he was stressed. He always politely called her name, was always well mannered and calm.

How she missed that.

Donna Kincaid had been the secretary to the warden of Blackgate Penitentiary for eight long years. While she never loved her job, it paid her bills. She had no family of her own, not many friends. Just a sick mother who has been in a home for two years. It hurt to go visit, but Donna couldn't help but be so very thankful that she had gone and visited her the day the inmates were freed.

The day so many guards were attacked and the day that her beloved boss, Warden Williams, was murdered by the convicts.

The man had his faults, sure, but he had always been kind to her.

And no one deserved to be beaten to death during a riot.

It was just barbaric.

Now, with the prison reconstructed, the new warden was looking to restore balance and order within the walls.

"_Donna!_"

Jumping again, she pushed back against the edge of the desk to roll her chair back before getting to her feet.

She just wished Warden Zehrhard didn't have to be so loud doing it.

Taking her pen and notepad, she stepped into the doorway of his office, her back slightly hunched from years of slouching. The meek secretary watched the bald man pace in front of her, his hand snatching his glasses from his face to clean them furiously.

"Yes, sir?" she muttered quietly.

"Get Major Jensen and Dr. Connolly up here."

"Yes, sir."

She ducked back out and went to her desk before lifting the handset of her phone and dialing.

* * *

"Doc, the Warden wants to see you in his office."

Dr. Alex Connolly glanced over her shoulder in acknowledgement as she continued applying pressure to the wound of the patient in front of her.

"Tell him I'll be right up," she answered, turning from the departing nurse and lifting the gauze to peer down and see if the bleeding stopped.

"Am I gonna make it?" her patient teased, laying down on the gurney.

Her green eyes flickered to meet his for a moment before lifting the gauze completely and throwing it away. She reached over and grabbed the antiseptic and a sterile cotton ball.

"This might sting."

She doused the white fluff and gently began applying it to the wound, ignoring the painful hiss of her patient.

Johnny De Luca was one of the many mobsters that were re-incarcerated after the breakout. He was as swarmy as they come and ever time he lecherously gazed at her she felt her skin crawl.

Alex, however, was skilled enough to not let it show. For two years now, she has been the primary doctor for Blackgate Penitentiary. One needs a tough exterior in order to last that long in this position.

"Sometimes I think you like to hurt us," he said, sneering before adding a "stupid bitch," to the end of his sentence.

"Hey!" the corrections officer standing behind her scolded. "Watch your mouth, con."

De Luca glared before glancing down at his leg where the doctor was now applying an ointment then taping bandage over it.

"Keep it dry overnight and let it breathe tomorrow. You'll be fine."

She rolled backwards on her stool and pulled the black nitrile gloves from her hands.

Johnny sat up and pushed his pant leg down before getting to his feet and strolling towards the door, the guard flashing her a small smile before following the inmate back towards the cell block.

Taking a deep breath, she went to the sink to wash her hands.

Once she was done, she stepped out of the examining room and into the main atrium of the infirmary. Two orderlies and two nurses were sitting near the little office that they all pretty much shared.

"I'm heading up to see the Warden. Can you guys hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

While she may be a stoic, unflappable robot with some of her skeevy patients, she was generally a warm individual, especially with her staff.

"Sure thing, Alex," Gemma, the older nurse said, picking up a stack of files. "Go see what our fearless leader needs."

Nodding, she circled around the group and left the infirmary.

She turned the corner and saw some of the prison industry inmates painting the walls of one of the reconstructed halls.

"Howdy, doc," she heard a friendly voice greet her.

A small smile came to her lips as she saw Archibald Walker wielding a paint brush.

Two of the three guards glanced at her, but most were merely observing and criticizing the work of the younger inmates.

"Hi Archie," she greeted, "how are your hands?"

Archibald had been an inmate for the last twenty-three years. Way back when he was on the outside, he had been a simple mechanic, divorced with a teenage daughter who never listened to him. One night she told him she was going to a friend's house to study, but instead she went out partying. He didn't hear from her for the rest of the night. After frantically searching for her, he finally received a call from the hospital. His daughter had been beaten and raped. When he saw what happened to her it broke his heart. The cops didn't do anything to help her, so he took it upon himself to make things right. His baby girl told him it was her friend's boyfriend who did it. So Archie hunted him down, and at first he wanted to see the boy who hurt her, then just talk to him, yell at him, find out why.

He hadn't planned on killing the boy.

But to this day he doesn't regret it.

Even with Gotham's corrupt system, it was his bad luck that the boy's father was a judge.

Archie's trial was, like most, a mockery and so began his incarceration. His wife eventually took his daughter and moved to Central City, away from the cesspool that was Gotham.

He received letters from time to time, even shows them to Alex when he needs to get shots of cortisone in his arthritic hands. Somehow, despite being here for so long, he can still smile whenever he gets a picture from his family.

By now, he's accepted his life and tried to make the best out of it. Alex helps, making sure that he's in the safer cell block, away from the especially violent and disobedient convicts.

Archie is the type of patient that made her decide to accept the position at Blackgate. Although there are only a few, some of the criminals deep in the bowels of this place still had some good left in them. They didn't deserve to die from sickness. Some only needed help.

Just like her father needed, but never received.

"Stiff as boards, doc. But I can move them all right, I suppose."

"Okay, well if they get too bad for you, come and see me."

"Absolutely."

"Okay, Archie, I'll see you," she said, continuing down the hall.

"You have a pleasant day," he called out to her.

She soon reached the Warden's office. Pushing her light brown hair back from her face, she smiled over at Donna, the Warden's easily startled secretary.

"Go right in," the woman said. "Major Jensen is already in there."

Alex had to fight to keep the scowl off of her face.

Major Jensen was, in her book, just as bad as some of the convicts.

Occasionally worse.

Brad Jensen was a brute. Not only was he physically intimidating to most, having both height, width, and strength, but he continually belittled and actively humiliated each and every inmate. He treated most of the staff as if they were servants while he swaggered down the halls like a king. Warden Williams never particularly liked him, but Jensen maintained order within the prison so he was allowed to assume control over the rest of the correctional officers. Some idolized the man, others merely tolerated him, being forced to stomach some of the demeaning tasks that Jensen forced the inmates into.

She knew because she witnessed the aftermath, she was the one that stitched up the lacerations, iced the contusions, called time of death on the suicides.

The only silver lining she had was that the instant anyone stepped into the infirmary, it was her call. No matter how big, how intimidating Jensen might be he had no power over her.

And he despised her for that.

The feeling was mutual, for there was not one person on the planet that Alex loathed more than Major Brad Jensen.

Alex entered the office and shut the door behind her. Zehrhard was seated behind his desk and Jensen leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Took your time getting here," he commented.

Alex ignored him and sat in one of the chairs set in front of Zehrhard's desk.

"Jensen, sit down. Let's get this over with."

Once they were all seated, the Warden rubbed his forehead for a moment before resting his elbows on his desk.

"I called you both in here because I need you and some of your people to stay late. We're getting a new inmate at dawn."

Jensen frowned.

They never received unscheduled transfers, nor was it just one inmate.

"Why do I need to stay?" Alex asked.

"He's being transferred from a hospital. Apparently, he's been very sick and injured for quite some time. The doctors at Gotham General have deemed him stable enough to move, so once he's here we'll be putting him up in the infirmary. I need you to clear out an examining room. They'll bring some equipment and supplies for him when they bring him in so don't worry about that."

Alex nodded and absently took hold of the two pendants on her necklace.

"Jensen, I need you to go with her and make sure that the room is adequate to hold a prisoner for an extended period of time. You'll need restraints for the bed. Strong ones."

"Yes, sir."

"There's going to be a lot of commotion over this. Both inside and out of the prison. Tempers are going to flare up and that always incites violence. We all need to be prepared. I will not allow another riot to break out inside this prison and, Jensen," he said, sternly looking at the officer, "you need to quell any sign of pandemonium the instant it appears. Got it?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Alex closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if the Warden was aware that he just let a rabid dog out of its cage.

"Dr. Connolly, you just need to be extra cautious when he gets here. We have no idea how this is going to play out. You need to be ready."

"Sir," she asked, releasing her necklace. "Why are we being so careful?"

In all her time she's never seen something like this.

"Because the man they're bringing here at dawn is not only the one that broke all these convicts out six months ago, but the man who occupied Gotham and nearly brought it to its knees."

The color drained from Alex's face while Jensen's body tightened.

"He's is coming to Blackgate?" he asked.

"Yes, and we need to be prepared. The entire city will be watching us."

"But there's been no word about him for weeks," Alex said, "we all figured he was carted off to some military facility out in the middle of nowhere."

"According to my sources that was in the cards for him, but Gotham is keeping this mess in house. He's our problem, so let's not screw it up, shall we?"

Both Alex and Jensen agreed.

Once they were dismissed, Alex left the office, smiling shakily towards Donna as she hurried out into the hall and took a deep breath.

"Can you believe it?" she heard Jensen speaking behind her. "That piece of shit here, in my prison."

"If you have a shred of intelligence inside that thick skull of yours," she said, turning to face him. "you'll watch yourself around this one. He's no simple felon. We have no idea what he's capable of, so for the love of God, don't push him."

Jensen smirked cruelly and took a step towards her, towering over her 5'7" slender frame.

"I'm the one with the power in here, doc. I know you forget that when you're safely tucked away in your sterilized, ivory tower, but over here, I'm king."

Her green eyes darkened with anger, hating that he always crowded her, using his body to make her feel vulnerable.

"And you've already forgotten, he won't be 'over here'. He'll be in that ivory tower where I'm in charge."

His face reddened with fury, and before the spat could escalate Alex turned and left, walking back to the infirmary, her mind racing.

* * *

Four unmarked police cars surrounded the ambulance as it drove through the nearly empty streets. Jim Gordon sat in the passenger seat, watching the street lights pass overhead before glancing over his shoulder.

Dr. Holmes was tucked into the small space beside his patient, checking to make sure that the anesthesia would last the trip.

"Everything all right back there?" Gordon asked.

"Yes. It's all as it should be."

"Good. We're almost there."

Soon, the _Gotham Gazette_ and _Gotham Globe_ will both run front page stories about Blackgate's newest guest. There will be a swarm of people around the prison, most probably demanding a public execution. While the citizens of Gotham were healing, Gordon hoped that this won't reopen the wounds. God knows that this city needed a win. If only the majority of people will see this as such, instead of demanding blood.

The ambulance pulled up to the newly erected stone wall surrounding the prison. The razor sharp barbed wire glinted beneath the floodlights as the steel doors opened slowly. The squad cars followed the ambulance as it pulled onto the property, driving around towards the back entrance which was located closer to the infirmary.

As the vehicle came to a stop, Gordon jumped out as Victor Zehrhard came out of the doors, six officers following him.

"Cover him," Gordon ordered as he opened the back of the ambulance. "The world will find out about this soon enough. I don't want to risk anything until then."

Dr. Holmes covered the large man with a sheet then the cop driving the ambulance hopped out to help Gordon pull the gurney out and to the ground.

"Everything is ready. Just follow me," Zehrhard said, motioning them.

The rest of the officers left the cars and joined the guards, surrounding Gordon and the doctor as they pushed the gurney into the building. Not one man spoke the entire journey to the infirmary. All eyes were fixed on the hall in front of them or the stark white sheet shielding the prisoner from any unwarranted bystanders.

It felt like forever, but they soon turned a corner and there were the thick steel doors that were opened to the infirmary. Two guards held them open as the rest of the unit moved inside where Gordon saw two individuals standing nearby.

A large, imposing guard towered over the woman, his dark eyes stern as he crossed his arms over his wide chest, his feet shoulder width apart. Gordon was familiar with this type of man and immediately knew that this guard was probably looking forward to having this prisoner under his roof. Next to him was a young woman wearing a lab coat, the prison doctor. Her eyes were focused on the sheet, her brow furrowed slightly, looking hesitant but not wholly intimidated.

"Dr. Connolly," Zehrhard said, gaining her attention. "This is Dr. Holmes. He'll update you on your patient."

She nodded and turned to the man, taking the then proffered medial records and moving into the office to go over them.

"Major Brad Jensen," the bulky man said, offering his hand to Gordon, who shook it quickly before pushing the gurney a bit more.

"Do you have a room set up?"

"This way."

Jensen and Zehrhard led Gordon to the very back of infirmary where a single hospital bed was arranged in the center of a room.

"The doors reinforced and locks just as well as any cell. All medical supplies are kept out of the room, so nothing can be used as a weapon. May I assume that there is nothing on his person that can be considered contraband?"

Gordon nodded, looking around the windowless, gray room.

"Then let's move him."

The three men got into position and heaved the unconscious one from the gurney and onto the bed.

"When will he wake up?" Jensen asked.

"Whenever the drugs wear off," Gordon replied as he uncovered the patient. "I don't know the dosage he was on so I couldn't give you a time frame."

Jensen moved forward and began shackling the behemoth to the bed.

"No one can be sure how he will react to this. Have your people be careful."

"With all due respect, Commissioner," Jensen said, "We house thousands of the most dangerous and violent criminals, and until this piece of shit blew up part of the building, we did our job just fine. We don't tell you how to keep the streets of Gotham clean, so don't tell us how to keep our prison running."

Gordon stared at the man while Zehrhard stepped forward.

"Jensen, go check on the doctors."

"Yes, sir."

When the man left, the Warden rubbed his head tiredly.

"We lost a lot of men during the riot. A lot of good men died very violent deaths. Some of the COs haven't quite gotten over that yet, but he has a point. Gotham is more than happy to forget about the men they put away. Out of sight, out of mind. They don't realize that all of these men are still alive and forced to live under one roof. My roof. I will not allow chaos in my prison. The safety of my staff always comes before the safety of my prisoners."

Gordon nodded as the doctors entered the room, followed by Jensen.

"You all caught up?" Zehrhard asked the woman.

"Yes. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Just the man who sports the injuries is.

"Then we will leave him in your capable hands," Dr. Holmes said, obviously wanting to get out of this place as quickly as possible.

"Right," Gordon added as Zehrhard led them out. As Gordon passed the young woman, he paused and turned to her. "If you could please keep me updated, I would appreciate it."

Her green eyes met his gaze, her expression softening as she stared up at the Commissioner.

"Of course, sir. It's no trouble."

He quirked his lips just a little, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it as he left the room, leaving the doctor with the patient and Jensen.

She glanced over at the guard, seeing his sizing up the other who continued to sleep.

"I can't believe _this_ is the motherfucker who caused so much damage," he said, scoffing.

"Unless you have something helpful to say, please don't speak."

Alex approached the bed, staring down at the patient before pulling the stethoscope from around her neck and putting the ear pieces in and placing the chest piece over his heart, listening to make sure that the drugs hadn't put him too far under where he'd be adversely affected.

Satisfied, she pulled back and settled the equipment back around her neck, holding onto the ends.

"When is he going to wake up?" Jensen asked.

"Whenever his body is ready."

"Fucking useless," he griped, leaving the room.

Alex continued to stare down at her patient, taking in his sheer size, the massive body covering the hospital bed. She glanced at his huge feet, his legs that were closer to the size of tree trunks in both length and girth, they were thick with muscle as were his arms, the tone and definition obvious despite being completely relaxed. His chest rhythmically rose and fell, pulling oxygen deep into his body. After seven weeks, he had facial hair covering his face and throat, some of it missing around his chin and upper lip, probably from scars hidden beneath the hair. His lips were full, but pale and chapped, his skin tone dull. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and she could still see a lump on the side of his head beneath the unkempt brown hair.

He certainly looked different, but it was him.

Sighing, she went and grabbed a chair, pulling it into the room before bringing some files with her. If she had to wait here until he awoke, she would, but she refused to let herself stand there and stare at him until the suspense was too much.

He'd wake up in his own time.

All she had to do was wait.

* * *

_A/N: For those of you who know me, I know I should be writing my other story, and I am. I promise. It's just a little slow moving right now. For those of you who are benevolent enough to read this, please take a few moments to review and offer some insight/opinions/what have you. I'm willing to listen to anything. Thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2: Pain

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

_The greatest evil is physical pain. -Saint Augustine_

Pain.

It has no discrimination, no prejudices.

It is unyielding, varied.

Sharp, stabbing, deep, throbbing; a pierce, an ache.

So many people fear death, but they are wrong.

They are so very wrong. It is pain that one should fear. Death releases you, it brings you peace.

Pain reminds you that you're alive. It forces that truth down your throat and makes you choke on it.

If there was one thing that Bane knew it was pain.

He knew its tenacity, its voracity. He knew how it clawed through his body, tearing at his sanity until it shattered him.

He knew how to inflict it, bring his enemies to their knees, how to drag it out until his foe trembled, every muscle infused with it until their lungs refused to function.

Pain was his most efficient ally… and his most competent adversary.

He felt it in his bones; it permeated throughout his flesh, radiated in his nerves.

Bile rose in his throat as his reality sharpened, the fog swirling in his mind dissipating to let his awareness come to the forefront.

It was a very cruel mistress to wake up to.

While the hurting was the his first awakening, the realization that he was alive, and therefore had failed quickly followed.

Gotham must have endured, like the cockroach that it was, surviving whatever mayhem is thrown its way.

The Batman must have saved the day again, stopped the bomb somehow.

But what did that mean for Talia?

Deep inside, he knew it must mean that she was gone. She would have died trying to fulfill her father's legacy. If Gotham still stood today, then she must have fallen.

His one perfection in this world was gone.

The muscles in his thigh twitched in pain, his flesh throbbing on his side, his ribs ached, his head pounded. His back was stiff, agony surging up and down his spine. He couldn't sense the sharp, chemical smell of his aerosolized medication, couldn't feel the weight of his mask against his face, instead all he felt was the bone deep burning and tearing sensation that has haunted him for years.

This was worse than when he was in the Pit. Then, he had the satisfaction of seeing his charge earn her freedom. Then, he knew the pain was his payment. It was the price he paid for his lovely Talia.

Now, however, there was no triumph.

Now, all he had was his pain and his defeat.

* * *

"Alex."

The whispered sound of her name, as well as the gentle hand on her shoulder, awakened Alex from her sleep. Breathing deeply, she sat up from her slumped, uncomfortable position in the chair. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision then looked up to see Gemma handing her a large styrofoam cup of coffee.

"You were here all night?" she whispered, glancing over at the still sleeping man.

Alex nodded while she sipped her coffee, closing her eyes as the warmth and caffeine seeped into her.

The infirmary was always cold and no matter how tightly she had wrapped her lab coat around her, it was useless. Her eyes were not able stay open and her body hadn't stopped shivering.

"Zehrhard wants me here when he wakes up. So until that happens here is where I'll be."

"Well Carol and I can handle the other inmates today, unless there's something really bad. Shots and scrapes we can easily deal with," she said, referencing the other nurse.

"Thank you, for that and the coffee."

"I figured you'd need it."

"I very much did."

Gemma watched as Alex stretched out her neck and back, wincing slightly as it cracked. The older woman genuinely liked the young doctor. She was a good person, despite her turbulent past that warped her view of the world. Why she continually put herself in this position, surrounded by criminals, she never knew, but Alex was smart and dedicated. She could easily have gone into private practice, but instead she came here where she had to deal with the scum of the earth.

And now this monster.

"There are already protestors outside," Gemma continued, pulling the newspaper out from under her arm. On the front page was a large picture of their patient, the bold headline above it reading '_**Gotham's worst secretly sent to Blackgate'**_.

"It was a pain to get in here this morning."

"Why are they protesting?" Alex asked. "He's in a prison, not a day spa. Take them for a tour around here and they'll shut up once they realize this place is Hell."

She got to her feet and uselessly tried to brush the wrinkles out of her clothes.

"I don't like it that you have to take care of him," the nurse practically blurted.

Alex frowned slightly and turned her pale green eyes towards her. "Why?"

"He's dangerous."

"I work in a prison, Gemma. All my patients are dangerous."

"He's barely human."

"He's human enough to require a doctor." She sighed let out a quiet breath and spoke a bit more encouragingly "I know who he is, what he's done. It was horrible. I remember the riot, I remember the carnage and the fear that lasted for months, but whoever is in my infirmary is in my care. I will do my job and follow the oath I swore, regardless of who he is."

"Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I always am."

Gemma sighed and nodded, leaving the room to begin her shift while Alex finished her coffee and threw out the cup. The lights were dimmed in the room, the brightness from the hallways nearly stretching to reach the bed. There was a stainless steel tray near the bed, as well as a short stool. The chair she had slept in remained against the wall, in sight of both the doorway and the bed. Scraping her hair back from her face and neck, she tied it up before making her way towards her patient. His chest rose and fell more staggeringly, the air rushing in and out of his mouth was harsh and stilted. Sweat beaded across his forehead and gleamed along his throat.

Frowning, she wondered if his infection was back. As she reached forward to pull back the sheet and look at his wound, his hand shot over and grabbed her wrist tightly, the thick chain and shackle pulling against his own flesh. Alex gasped and tried to pull back, but the vice like grip never wavered, only constricted around the fragile bones and bruised the pale skin like a snake with its next meal. Her gaze darted up and met the cool steel blue eyes of her patient, the fury blazing within the irises.

This was it.

He was awake.

* * *

The pain in his shoulder had been intense, but it had been his skull bouncing off of the concrete that had dazed him. Now, weeks after that fateful day, he can finally raise his arm above his head and the lump on the back of his head was finally gone.

It still didn't ease the shame inside him.

Talia had continued on without him, barely even glanced back when he had been shot.

His vision had blurred while he laid on the concrete, his world blurring into a haze of confusion.

The cops had swarmed, she was gone, and his superior laid buried beneath debris, surrounded by uniformed officers.

They had failed.

Years of planning, gone.

Empty blue eyes gazed down at the black and white print in front of him, relief rushing through him for the first time in weeks.

He was alive.

He was in Blackgate.

With him incarcerated and Talia dead, the cause was nearly quelled.

Their forces were severely depleted. Only a few men were alive and free to walk the streets of Gotham, but they had to light at the end of their tunnel.

They did not know where to start.

The front page would give them hope and purpose.

Tucking the paper under his arm, Barsad continued strolling leisurely down the busy street, a cruel smirk finally twisting his lips.

All was not lost.

Soon, they will rise again.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Alex steadied her breath, not once looking away from the flashing eyes before her.

"I need you to let go," she said calmly. "You've been severely injured. Release my arm so I can take a look and make sure you are healing."

The intense gaze never once wavered as the grip slowly loosened and the hand fell back onto the bed.

Alex let out a quiet sigh, thankful that he had listened. She rubbed her sore, reddened wrist for a moment as she took a few steps back towards the door and into the doorway.

"Carol," she said, getting the nurse's attention. "Can you please get me a glass of water?"

She nodded and hurried into the office, filling up a paper cup from the water cooler and bringing it back.

"Is he awake?" the woman asked anxiously.

Alex took the cup and stepped back into the room.

"Inform the Warden. Ask him to call the Commissioner, as well, but do not let anyone into this room."

The nurse hurried off to do as she was told.

Steeling herself once again, Alex turned and went back into the room, moving to the side of the bed. The top was already lifted slightly, so she stood closer to his head.

"Here," she said, bringing the cup up to his lips. Still watching each other closely, he took a few sips of water, his breath catching slightly while he winced.

She took the cup and set it on the tray. Turning back to him, she took a small flashlight from the pocket of her lab coat.

"I'm going to check your eyes," she announced.

He may be shackled, but she was also very close to him.

Leaning over him, she gently set her left hand against his forehead, a sigh escaping him as her frigid palm soothed his heated skin. Her thumb brushed over his eyelid, apply just enough pressure to lift it before shining the light. The instant she saw the pupil constrict she moved onto the next eye, copying what she was did before.

"I need you to roll onto your uninjured side."

Placing the light back into her pocket, she took hold of her stethoscope and put the two pieces in her ears. She watched as he planted one elbow onto the thin mattress, his brow furrowing as he strained to tile his large body, the wound and chains not allowing him to move very far.

She hurriedly placed the end of the stethoscope on his back and asked him to inhale deeply.

While his lungs sounded clean, his breathing was stilted.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she gently helped him return to his back, watching it arch slightly off the bed for a long moment before his spine slowly relaxed.

She checked his breathing from the front before removing the stethoscope and placing it back around her neck. Silently, she reached for his wrist, moving slowly as if dealing with a wild animal. Her fingers pressed down on his wrist and found his pulse before she glanced down at her watch. Once she was satisfied with the rate, she stepped back.

The tightened brow relaxed slightly but his eyes remained completely focused on her, as if he was in total control of the situation despite being severely injured and chained to the bed. She had never seen that expression in an inmate. There was usually a threatening stare, or a cocky one even. Never this.

It was more than a little unnerving.

Clearing her throat, she focused on his care again.

Normally, she'd ask him a few questions try to gauge his alertness, but from the look in his eyes and his reaction time she didn't need any confirmation. Even coming out of a medically induced coma, this man was vigilant.

"I'll be right back," she murmured, leaving the room and going down the hall towards the locked supply closet.

As she walked, she reached up to fiddle with her necklace, her brow furrowed in a daze while her other hand reached into her pocket for her keys.

"Alex, what happened?"

Blinking, she turned to see Gemma staring at her wrist in shock.

"It looks worse than it actually is," she assured, staring at the already swollen bruise that encircled her wrist.

"He's only been awake for a few minutes!"

"Keep your voice down," Alex hissed. "I startled him, that's all. It was my fault. I should have knows better, but it's fine."

"You should bring a guard with you from now on. God only knows what that monster will do to you."

"He's not going to do anything because he can't."

"And why's that?"

"Because he's probably in so much pain from his injuries that moving just isn't worth it."

Alex unlocked the supply room and went inside to grab the supplies that she needed.

"So if pain is his leash," Gemma continued, "why are you giving him painkillers?"

"We've already been through this. He's my patient. It is my job to heal these people, regardless of what they've done, and if you can't keep that in mind then perhaps it's time for you to find other employment," she snapped, slamming the door behind her once she came back to the hall.

Gemma gritted her teeth and stared down at the doctor. They had mostly gotten along, but every so often Gemma would try to mother her, which Alex never appreciated. She was so guarded that the instant someone showed her sympathy or empathy she shut down.

"Are you firing me then?" Gemma asked.

Alex took a deep breath and closed her eyes, collecting herself.

"No. Of course not. I... apologize for my temper. I'm just tired and stressed. Most people don't care about these inmates. Live or die, it doesn't matter. Their family and friends, if they had any at all, have moved on, but that man in there… I don't even know what to do about him. I've been agonizing over it since I left Zehrhard's office. I don't know how to explain it," she confessed, pushing a stray hair from her face. "It's like Shakespeare said, 'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.'"

"Alex…" she sighed.

"Never mind. I've left him too long. I'm sorry, again."

"I understand. You're under a lot of pressure. You don't need me bossing you around," the nurse said, giving her a soft smile.

"Thanks."

Shifting the items in her arms, she headed back towards the examination room at the very end of the hall, hurrying when she saw that her patient already had a visitor.

"What are doing in here?" she asked Jensen as she stepped into the room. The guard was looming at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at the inmate, who was calmly observing the other man.

It was rather obvious that Jensen did not intimidate this man one bit.

"Introducing myself. Where the hell where you? You're supposed to stay with him," Jensen said, rounding on the doctor.

"I went to get a few supplies."

She grabbed the tray and rolled it over to the side of the bed where the IV was giving nutrients and sustenance to the man. Setting the stuff down, she turned back to face Jensen, only to stiffen when she saw he was right behind her. She tried to step back, but there was just no room.

"He do this?" he asked, roughly taking hold of her elbow and lifting it to see her wrist.

She snatched her arm away and glared up at him.

"It's really none of your concern."

"The safety of the staff is part of my job, Doc."

"You're just looking for a reason to stick around and bother my patient. I have enough on my plate right now. I don't want, nor do I need, to put up with your crap. You're not even supposed to be in here, Jensen. So unless you've become a doctor overnight, get out of my infirmary."

Jensen sneered at her, despising her even more for talking to him like that in front of a prisoner.

Especially this prisoner.

His hand suddenly shot out and gripped her chin, his fingers digging into her skin as he leaned towards her.

"One of these days, Doc, you're going to need my help. You'll beg for it, so maybe you should flash me a pretty smile now and then so I'll feel inclined to help you."

Her green eyes flashed as she ripped away from his grasp.

"I think I'll take my chances. Now get out."

Jensen, with his hand still poised in the air, snorted in amusement. His hand opening before tapping her cheek condescendingly.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Sure thing."

She didn't remove her gaze from the guard until he completely disappeared from her view. Only then did she let out the breath that she had been holding.

Turning, she could barely meet her patient's passive eyes. She cleared her throat and quickly started the IV for the morphine, hanging the bag on the pole before pulling on the remote, giving it enough slack.

"That will help with the pain," she said as she handed it to him. "Just click the button and it will give you more. The pump will make sure you don't overdo it."

Alex slid her hands into her pockets and took a step back, watching as the chemical worked its magic on the man, the tension slowly leaving his expression.

"Do you remember what happened to you? Who you are?"

The man's blinked slowly, pulling his gaze from the IV in his hand to look up at the doctor before nodding his head once.

"You were severely injured. The officers found you, unconscious, beneath some debris. You were secretly taken to a hospital where they stabilized you. They kept you in a medically induced coma, and once you were healthy enough they brought you here, to Blackgate."

The man coughed slightly, swallowing hard.

Alex quickly turned and grabbed the cup of water, bringing it back to him so he could soothe his throat.

"The Batman is dead," she continued, staring down at him as she held the drink to his lips. "He took the bomb out over the bay and it detonated. They say it was a close call, that you almost destroyed the city." There was no reaction from him so she kept talking. "You have some pretty extensive injuries to your side, deep flesh wounds, a lot of bruising and swelling from the bottom of your rib down to your thigh. You have two fractured ribs and cracked your head pretty hard. It's nothing time and medicine can't cure, but you'll be kept to the bed for a while so your sutures don't rip."

His eyes lifted to meet hers while he leaned his head back against the pillow, the pain ebbing away from him even more.

"You won't be hated in here for the bomb, nor for the war zone you created. It will be because you broke all those men out of here. By breaking down that wall, you started a riot unlike this place has ever seen. A lot of people were killed, inmates and staff alike. A lot of friends were lost that day. You have a lot of enemies in this place."

"And are you among them?" he asked, startling her with his hoarse, accented voice. It was clear she hadn't expected him to speak, nor for his voice to be so quiet. She had only heard his booming, mechanical voice over the television. "Do you hold me in contempt for what I've done?"

Alex clenched her jaw tightly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Normally, she knew exactly how to deal with a patient, what to say, what not to say, but now... she felt so unstable, so uneasy. She couldn't get a read on this guy. For the first time in her career she felt like she had no control.

"To me, you're prisoner #97D3378. Nothing more, nothing less. The name Bane means nothing to me."

"For that, doctor," he said, a tired, amused look flickering in his eyes, "we shall see."

* * *

Jim Gordon stepped into his office at GCPD, his weary eyes meeting the stern gaze of John Blake.

"Is it true?" the younger man asked.

"Who let you in here?"

"Just because I no longer carry the shield doesn't mean I don't have a few friends that do."

"So you decided to have those friends get you into my office so you can question me?" Blake nodded. "All right, rookie. What is it you want to know?"

"Is it true that Bane's in Blackgate?"

"Yes."

"And...?"

"And what? He's a criminal. Criminals go to jail. You haven't been off the force that long. You should remember that."

Blake clenched his jaw for a moment and looked away. For so long he had looked up to the Commissioner. Finding out about Harvey Dent shook his belief in the other man, made him question what he thought he knew about his mentor. Blake hadn't truly reconciled those truths yet; he knew that Gordon did what he did for Gotham, but Blake wondered what other lies the Commissioner was willing to keep in order to protect the city.

"Where has he been for the last month?"

"In a hospital. He was pretty badly hurt, so the doctors stitched him up. It's over, rookie. It's done."

Blake scoffed.

"I know you don't even believe yourself when you say that."

"I have to. The people of Gotham have to. After all the pain that they've endured, they need to know that the monster is locked away."

"Well right now they don't feel assured at all. They're out for blood."

"I'm well aware of that. We're having a press conference later today. I'll let the public know that we have everything under control."

"And do you?"

Gordon sat at his desk, his hands settling on top of a pile of folders.

"Do we ever?"

The two men stared at each other, a moment of understanding between them. Something was always coming their way. No matter how many criminals they put away, how dedicated they were to keep the streets clean, there will never be an end. That was the painful truth.

The sound of Gordon's phone ringing disrupted the contemplative silence, the shrill noise forcing them back into their current predicament.

"Gordon," the Commissioner stated as he spoke into the mouthpiece.

With no introduction, no greeting, the voice on the other line spoke.

"_He's awake_."

* * *

Donna Kincaid anxiously straightened all the pictures on her desk, her eyes flickering from the images of her fluffy dogs to the Warden's door.

On most days, staring at her babies dressed up in costumes made her chuckle with delight, but not today.

Not with Warden Zehrhard barking at her constantly, using some of the foulest language she had ever heard.

Warden Williams never did that.

Not once.

For most of the morning, he had huffed and puffed, pacing around his office like a caged ape, but, now that Major Jensen had just shown up, she could hear the yelling through the wall.

_"She's not equipped to handle an inmate like that! He's going to get loose and kill somebody! I'm telling you, let me take over, and I guarantee nothing will happen. Not on my watch," Jensen shouted._

_"The man is in no position to hurt anyone, Major. The room is adequate and Dr. Connolly has worked with enough prisoners to know how to handle him and herself."_

_"Then how come he already attacked her?"_

_"**What?!**"_

_"Oh, the good doc didn't mention that when she had her minion call you? Yeah, the piece of shit hasn't been awake for an hour and he's already hurt her."_

_"This is completely unacceptable. What the hell happened?"_

_"Not sure. The doc and I aren't exactly best friends, but I saw her wrist. It looked like someone tried to crush it."_

_"What did she do when you saw it?"_

_"Brushed it off and told me to get out. I try to help her, but with that feminist stick up her ass she won't let me. Her pride is going to get someone seriously hurt, maybe killed. No one wants to see that happen to the pretty, little doctor."_

There was a long bout of silence.

The gossip surrounding Jensen/Connolly animosity was never-ending. No one was quite sure how it started, or if it just snowballed over the years. All everyone knew was that they hated each other, but while the doctor tried to avoid the guard, he seemed to get a sick enjoyment out of toying with her.

_"You're serious about this?" the Warden asked._

_"Sir, Connolly and I have our differences, but we're talking about a very dangerous man being monitored by a weak woman who has no idea what she's doing. He's already taken advantage of that. Are you willing to risk letting it happen again?"_

There was more silence before the door swung open and the two men emerged.

"Donna, call the front gate and tell the guards to send Gordon to the infirmary as soon as he gets here."

"Yes, sir," she muttered quietly, watching them leave.

As they disappeared, Donna sighed in relief.

She was just thankful that she didn't have to be anywhere near the infirmary when they tried to take control from the doctor.

Donna just hated confrontation.

* * *

"Incoming."

Alex picked her head up as she heard Carol speak. Her patient had fallen back asleep so she was taking the time to clean his wounds. It was much easier to work without his piercing stare focused entirely on her. But although he hadn't seemed angry with her, and despite his being here, he seemed quite tolerant of her.

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

She figured tactics and strategy were one of his many strengths, considering how he easily took control of Gotham. Now, it was logical that he didn't erupt once awareness set in; this man was more likely to wait, assess, then act. Proactive instead of reactive.

Or... she could be totally off base and he was just too tired and in too much pain to care what happened to him.

"What's incoming?" she asked, letting the hospital gown cover the freshly clean and bandaged wounds before gently pulling the sheet back up to his waist.

Carol didn't have time to answer as the Warden and Major Jensen stepped into the room, their eyes quickly shifting towards the sleeping man.

"I thought he was awake," the Warden said.

"He's just resting."

Alex, still sitting on a short stool, rolled backwards and away from the bed, pulling the gloves off her hands and disposing of them.

"Gordon is on his way," Zehrhard continued, "but before he gets here we have an issue to address."

"Perhaps we should step into the hall, and-"

"No, we'll discuss it here."

Alex bit her tongue and nodded.

"Whichever you prefer, sir. What seems to be the issue?"

The Warden was quiet for another moment, glancing at her covered wrists, trying to find the injury but unable to do so because of the lab coat.

"I'm putting Jensen in charge of him."

"What?! Why?" She stared at the Warden, before turning to the guard, hatred swelling inside her at the smug look on his face. "What did you do?"

"He told me how you've already been attacked by him."

"He didn't attack me, sir."

"Show him your wrists and say that again," Jensen added.

Alex glared at him for a long moment. "I thought the patient was still unconscious. I approached the bed to check on his injuries. He woke up, just as I was about to touch him and grabbed my wrist. That's it. There was no other sign of aggression. If anything it was a natural defensive action."

Zehrhard considered this, watching the stewing doctor closely.

"I still don't think I can take the risk of you getting hurt."

"Sir, with all due respect, that's a risk I take with any patient in this facility. He's at least chained to the bed. Now while I understand your hesitation I am telling you that putting Major Jensen in control is a mistake. You may think his ways are useful in the cell blocks or the yard but they will be severely detrimental in here."

Again, Zehrhard considered. The doctor never made any unnecessary fuss or trouble and he was inclined to trust her judgment.

When Jensen saw that he was losing the fight, he stepped forward, grabbing the doctor's elbow with one hand and yanking back the sleeve. Alex gasped at the sudden rough contact and tried to pull herself free but the man was too strong.

"Look at this, sir!" Jensen said, showing the dark purple contusions. "This is a 'defensive' reaction. You think he's going to sit here quietly the whole time. He almost destroyed the city. He's violent and dangerous, and the doctor's bleeding heart is going to get someone killed."

"'Bleeding heart'?" she spat, finally wrenching her arm from him. "I have never, nor will I ever have sympathy for him. I have no intention of trying to find any good left inside of him. Just because I am not cruel or heartless doesn't mean I want to empathize with him. My job is to heal his body. Whatever is left of his soul is none of my concern."

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. Everyone knows about your daddy issues, about how you sometimes care a little too much about criminals. I'm surprised you haven't fuc-"

"I swear to God," she said loudly, cutting the guard off, "if you finish that thought I will-"

"That's enough!" Zehrhard shouted. "I can't have you two at each other's throats all the time. I got prisoner-on-prisoner violence to deal with. I don't need my staff trying to kill each other, too. I don't know why you two can't get along, and frankly, I don't give a shit, but we have a job to do here and a very important one at that so get your shit together or you'll both suffer the consequences. Got it?!"

Jensen continued to glare spitefully down at the doctor whose expression turned blank as she listened to her boss.

"Now, Dr. Connolly, I know we put a lot of pressure on you when we put him in your infirmary, so I'm willing to let this play out as is for a little while longer, but if one staff member so much as gets a paper cut and it can be traced back to him, Jensen will assume control. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Major, if I ever see you manhandle a female member of the staff like that again you'll be suspended on the spot. This prison is suffering already, I don't need to get sued, too. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

There was another long moment of silence as Zehrhard watched his two subordinates, feeling as if he was settling a dispute among children. This was the type of behavior he expected from his inmates, not his staff.

"Am I interrupting?"

All three turned and saw Gordon standing in the doorway.

"No. We were just finishing up a little staff meeting," Zehrhard answered.

"Well if you don't mind I'd like the room. Dr. Connolly can stay to monitor him."

Although Jensen's already dark mood worsened, Zehrhard begrudgingly agreed and led the guard out of the room. He swung the door so that it was nearly shut, leaving the Commissioner and the doctor alone with her patient.

When Alex turned, she was startled to see that Bane was already awake, staring at the two of them.

How long had he been awake?

How much of the argument had he seen?

"Would you like a chair, Commissioner?" the inmate questioned, an almost regal quality to his voice despite how rough it was.

He was obviously more alert now than he was the first time he was conscious; his eyes were clearer, he sat up straighter, his presence demanding not only attention, but it practically forced bystanders into submission.

"I think I'll stand for this talk. I have a few questions to ask you."

"Whatever for? You already have me captive, chained to a bed inside a prison. You are victorious and have conquered your adversary."

Gordon ignored the comment.

"We know Miranda Tate was working with you. She was killed while trying to keep the bomb out of Batman's hands. How long have you two known each other?"

Bane's expression never once shifted, his calm gaze remaining fixed upon the seasoned officer.

"Our relationship and our past is something that you will never be able to understand. Asking questions like that would be a fool's errand, and you are many things, Commissioner, but a fool is not one of them,"

"So you're not going to cooperate?"

"Why would I? Again, you have me at your mercy," he said, a hint of condescension in his voice. "I will not divulge my secrets to you. I have no inclination to intrigue you with my story. I never hid my reasons from the people. Every citizen deserved what they received. Gotham City is a cancer to the world. Only through it's liberation was its malignancy made apparent. And what do you do when such a condition it affects the body, doctor?"

Alex swallowed, licking her lips before she said, "You remove it."

"Yes. You excise it. You destroy all traces of it. "

"But you failed," Gordon said.

A brief weariness settled over the prisoner before he turned stoic once again.

"Yes."

"We searched where you had been staying. Someone beat us to it, stole a lot of things. Do you have any idea who that might be?"

The patient's brow furrowed slightly, obviously intrigued about that news.

"I would not know. I was otherwise engaged."

"We do have your mask. It looks like it delivers some sort of chemical, like a continuous inhaler. Am I right?"

"It supplies me with an anesthetic gas for the pain I continually feel."

"Wait," the doctor said, stepping forward. "It's a medical device?"

"Yes."

Alex turned to Gordon, a question in her eyes.

"No," Gordon said. "That mask has become a symbol to every person in this city, much like the Joker's clown paint. I won't allow him access to it."

"But sir, if it's medical-"

"No. He seems to be doing fine now."

"That's because he's on enough morphine to kill a horse and he's still coherent. I can't keep him on it forever."

"I'm sorry, but then you'll need to come up with something he _can_ take, because that mask is staying where it is. Perhaps the pain will help remind him of all the people he's hurt."

"Do you really think that will work?" she asked.

"No," Gordon sighed, rubbing his forehead. "But he's still not getting the mask."

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out, turning away from them to answer it. After a few short words, he hung up and faced the doctor.

"I have to go. I think that's enough for now."

Not that the man was being particularly helpful answering.

"Will you be able to find your way out?" she asked.

"I'll manage."

Gordon glanced at Bane, but said nothing more as he left.

* * *

Bane watched the doctor as she tiredly close her eyes for a moment and push her hair back from her face.

"You fought to keep my under your care," he stated.

She turned to face him, her hands falling to her sides, his gaze briefly catching on the injury he had inflicted.

"Jensen is a bully. He would have antagonized you."

"I can handle the guard."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said, moving towards the IV pole to check the levels. "Jensen has this crazy idea that he's untouchable. If there is one inmate in this place that can prove to him that he's not... it's you."

"From the way you two interact, I would have presumed that this would be something you would relish."

"Maybe I would," she said, changing the settings on the infusion pump. "But the consequences would be severe, and I won't allow other people to get hurt because that asshole wants to try to show off. The more isolated you are from him, the better off everyone is."

"Except for you."

She already suffered from the guard's animosity and it will only become worse.

"Well no one said that Batman was the only martyr in the city."

Bane's gaze lightened, his head tilting slightly as he continued to stare at his caregiver.

"Who is your father?"

That grabbed her attention, her eyes finally finding his, her hesitancy obvious with the way she furrowed her brow just slightly.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answer the question."

"That's not how things work here," she said, sliding her hands into her pockets. "Talking about our childhoods, expressing our feelings, that's what Arkham's for. This is Blackgate. We don't care why you do the things you do. I don't want to get to know you, and you most certainly will not get to know me. Have I made myself clear?"

"Oh yes, doctor," he said as he laughed quietly. "In fact, I do believe I will enjoy my stay here."

* * *

Cold, hooded blue eyes watched the scene in front of him as the Police Commissioner stood on the steps on GCPD, a podium and microphones in front of him. Reporters and photographers huddled in front of him while a mass of people filled the sidewalk.

"The terrorist known as Bane was apprehended by the Gotham City Police Department seven weeks ago. Due to significant injuries, he was treated at a local hospital until he was stable enough to be move. Currently, he is continuing his treatment at Blackgate Penitentiary. Those who followed him are either dead, as a result of the skirmish last month, or are also incarcerated at Blackgate. If anyone has any information about these men they are urged to call the tip line. I'll just take a few questions."

Reports tried to get Gordon's attention and he finally singled one out.

"What will happen to him after he is healed?"

"That will be up to Warden Zehrhard, and I don't think he will be willing to divulge that information."

"Why wasn't the public made aware of his capture until now?" was another question.

"We didn't want people to panic or become hostile. Gotham saw enough destruction over the five months of his reign, we didn't want to incite more by disclosing his location. That's all the time I have. Thank you."

Barsad watched as Gordon turned and went back into the building, ranking officers following him despite the crowd asking for more answers.

He, however, didn't need to see anymore.

Slinking back from the crowd, he headed down the street towards the library.

While Gotham might sleep easily thinking that Bane and his men were behind bars, they were sorely mistaken... for Bane's most loyal follower still walked free.

And he had just been given the very information that would allow him to help his brother rise again.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites. It's exciting. Just a warning though. I am not a doctor, so if any medical stuff is wrong I apologize. I'm trying to keep the specifics out of the story. Also, I know this was a long chapter. I couldn't find a good stopping point so I just kept going. I am curious about what people think about Bane's dialogue/characterization (although there will be more of his thoughts in the next chapter). He's a difficult character to pin down. Alex might seem a bit cold and guarded now, but it just takes her a bit to open up. She'll get there. So please stick with me in the process. _

_Please comment! I love feedback!_


	3. Chapter 3: Memories

__Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

_What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined - to strengthen each other - to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories. -George Eliot_

It was true.

She was gone.

His perfect, lovely Talia was dead.

He had been there for her birth, and lived to see her death.

It was wrong, unnatural.

She gave her life for her father's cause, the legacy she fought to protect, and now, she was dead because of it.

Bane remembered her innocence as a child, climbing on the bars of her cage, staring up at him with wide eyes as he cut the pretty brown hair from her head. Bane had given her Osito, the stuffed teddy bear he had once carried around the prison as a child. Although Talia never needed to hide the knife inside like he had. She had him, a much more capable weapon.

He remembered hearing her cries as a newborn as her mother gripped her tightly, remembered her as a baby, holding onto his fingers as she shakily took her first steps, clutching onto him as the nightmares forced tears into her eyes. She was his, and she was flawless.

When he watched her make that jump, his eyes focusing on her disappearing out of the prison, he did not care about the men surrounding him, dragging him into a tangle of pain and violence.

He had thought his purpose was finished; he had helped his Talia escape.

He was done.

But the other prisoners did not kill him.

He had often wished they had.

The pain had crippled him, gnawing at him until he was catatonic.

He truly did not know how long she had been gone. It seemed as if a lifetime, but she eventually came back. This time with force, a siege on the prison with him as their goal. They had found him huddled in the prison, unaware of his surroundings, not caring what became of him. They had dragged him up to the surface, the sun blinding him until he saw her face again. She had hesitated to touch him, unsure if it was wise to remove the bloody fabric covering his face so instead she had taken his hand, brought it to her cheek to nuzzle into before saying "You are saved, my friend. Now, we will be free together."

The League of Shadows had done their best to fix him, reconstructing his face, leaving him with only a few disfiguring scars, but the pain was still debilitating. Talia had fought for him, pushing her father to find a way to give him comfort, and so the mask was constructed. The intricate design was fearsome, the weight heavy and it had taken him weeks to be able to function with it. His voice became mechanized, the usual lilts and dips of his accent becoming exaggerated, giving him a dramatized way of speaking. The first time he had seen himself wear it he truly felt like a monster, as if he was the beast from the nightmares she used to have as a little girl, but when he had turned to her she had only smiled at him, reaching up to caress the side of his face.

When she had told him that her father would train him, he was reluctant, suspicious. The older man had made it obvious he did not approve of his daughter's friend, but Talia insisted that he should trust her father. She told him he suffered because he no longer had meaning, that because she was safe now he should not turn his back on his strength. Her father was willing to give him purpose, to teach him, and so he eventually agreed. Bane had studied with unparalleled intensity. His mind voraciously absorbed knowledge, his already large stature hardening as he pushed his body to the very limits. Her father had admitted that he had a mind equal to the greatest he had ever known. Ra's al Ghul had been shocked to learn how educated Bane had been inside the prison, having become proficient in eight languages and an expert of many fields of study, including the sciences. Talia had beamed with pride when it became obvious that her protector was recognized as more than a vicious guard dog.

Bane easily combined the League's theatrical and disciplined fighting style with that of the one he had taught himself in prison, the result being a silent, horrifically violent display of force as he could easily absorb hits before systematically breaking his opponent, circling his victims as he waited for them to gather the strength to try him again. The League of Shadows used darkness, adapted to it, but Bane commanded it, had long ago evolved to flourish in the black. All the while Talia watched on, awe swirling in her gaze as her dangerous protector became a deadly force to be reckoned with.

It was there, nestled in the Himalayans, that he had foolishly believed they had found a place in the world. He had been content watching her, lovely and free, the sun reflecting off of the her shiny hair, a glow to her skin as she smiled. She became more beautiful, him stronger, and both deadlier.

Soon, however, the truth came crashing down around them like a house of cards.

That day she had been missing from his side all morning. He had searched for her, finally finding her with her father, tucked away in a small room. He could hear her father's stern, unapologetic voice ordering for his removal. Talia first pleaded, the desperation quickly turning into anger, threatening to leave as well if the patriarch wouldn't be reasonable. The argument had continued until Talia swiftly left the room, stilling, however, when she saw him on the other side of the door.

"I am so sorry, my friend," she had said quietly, staring up at him in shame.

But Bane had never felt connected to this place, to the people. The only person he cared for was her, and if she was coming with him, then he did not feel slighted. He had assured her that she had nothing to be sorry for, that together they will make their own path.

For years, they prospered, strengthened, endured. Talia grew into a beautiful young woman, her hypnotizing yet deadly nature aided in dealing with their clients while Bane's lethal skills eliminated threats. War lords, rogue military fascists, revolutionary anarchists vied for their services. The death and torture never bothered her, and while a part of him wished she had a life free from that, he loved her too much to deny her anything she wanted.

It had been in a burning village in the South Pacific that they met a young, skilled marksman named Barsad. The cold man had an exceptional affinity for weaponry and a focused patience that was rare in most mercenaries. Talia had tried to use her wiles to draw him away from his current contacts, but the man remained unmoved by her soft, lulling voice and dark eyes. She had leaned towards him, speaking quietly so the man would have had to dip his head close to hear her, but the marksman never moved. His hooded eyes assessed her coolly, his hands holding his weapon in a casual way, giving him an air of indifference, despite the fact that his battle ready body was completely alert.

Bane had watched as Talia failed, amused as she grew frustrated when she usually succeeded so easily.

"I don't care about your pretty words or hushed promises," Barsad had said, "if you have the skills and the experience then I will join you. I've had my fill of insolent men who fail their comrades because they are without intelligence and focus."

"You will be allowed to execute men such as that if you have the misfortune to come across them," Bane said, meeting the man's gaze, which never glanced questioningly or hesitantly at the mask.

Barsad had only smiled, a cruel twisting of his lips, and agreed.

As they continued to strengthen their numbers, Bane's exceptional ability to strategize and effortlessly pull off operations were directed and controlled by Talia's unforgiving nature. While Barsad never openly questioned the woman, his silences dripped with derision when she tried to order him about. Barsad's loyalty lied with Bane, the man he trusted with his life. Through war, they had become true brothers, and Talia never approved. She did not like that Bane trusted Barsad's judgment, that the marksman's words were considered. She was supposed the leader. She was supposed to be the only thing that mattered to Bane. Anything else was a distraction.

When word reached them about Ra's al Ghul's demise at the hands of the Batman, of how that toxic waste of a city bested the leader of the League of Shadows, Talia forced them away from all other opportunities. Bane tried to remind her that they had no allegiance with her father since he threw them out because he could not stand to even look at him, but she insisted. She had even threatened him with the promise she spoke to her father, that should would leave him if he did not agree to help her.

It was an empty gesture, for she knew that Bane would always follow her.

And so the planning had begun.

As Gotham was terrorized by a psychotic, macabre clown, Talia recruited the remaining members of the League of Shadows. While the city worshipped a fallen hero and condemned a masked vigilante, she outlined what she wanted Gotham's end to be like. He had protested, not wanting her to sacrifice herself for her father's legacy. All for a man who chose ghosts over his daughter, but Talia had only took his hand, nuzzled into it and caressed his face, promising him that in the end they will be together. Even in death.

Finally, he agree, and soon, as Gotham City quieted, Miranda Tate was able to infiltrate the elite group that ran the city.

Time passed, but when Bane's body was manhandled onto the aircraft, he had been sure that their plan would work, that he would give his lovely Talia the thing she most wanted.

Gotham brought to its knees.

But instead, she was dead.

He remained bed stricken in a prison.

They were not together in the end.

Closing his eyes, Bane mourned for his perfect, lovely Talia.

Again, he was without purpose.

* * *

The reality of the situation had been surpisingly anticlimactic.

For over two weeks, Alex had cared for Bane, overseeing his treatment.

The man was unusually quiet, which was unexpected considering how terrifyingly enrapturing his speeches had been. His gaze followed her as soon as she entered the room, stayed focused on her even as she sat and worked on her files. It was harmless, but unnerving, and no matter what her progress reports said, Zehrhard wanted her to monitor him whenever she had a free moment. It did not take long before the corner of his room was practically her office.

The few times she spoke with him, he would merely respond with just a hint of amusement, as if he was watching a child play instead of a doctor doing her job.

Even with the silence, she learned small facts about him. He preferred the room when it was kept cold and dark. Most of the time when his eyes were closed, he was meditating, not sleeping. He was exceptionally disciplined, needing a strict routine even within the confines of the room. Alex even found herself rearranging her schedule to accommodate him, knowing if she was mere moments late his gaze would harden, his demeanor turning so threatening that she'd struggle to keep her hands steady. She didn't know what she would do if he returned to his original demeanor that he had displayed while free from the prison. The nearly melancholic one he had now at least allowed her to work easily in his presence. Still, his attitude was important. His eyes said more than his mouth did, and she couldn't help but notice the flashes of sadness that flickered into the gray eyes before he closed them for the night. This man was grieving and she didn't know what to do about it.

Leaning against the door, she crossed her arms over her chest, watching the man. The day shift was over, the infirmary emptying out except for the two guards who stuck around during the night. Her patient had his eyes closed, but she knew he was aware of her presence.

He always was.

"There's something you should know," she said, pushing off of the door and walking to the side of the bed.

His eyes opened, easily finding her in the darkened room before she continued.

"In a few days you're going to have some visitors."

Bane watched her as he shifted his hands, even though his wrists were still chained to the bed.

"And who will be my gracious guests?"

"Dr. Jeremiah Arkham and a psychiatrist named Dr. Simpson Flanders."

"Am I to presume they wish to have me transferred?"

"Most likely. The Warden will fight it. He thinks Arkham is too soft on his patients. Commissioner Gordon wants you to stay here, too, but I'm not sure what will happen."

"Your life would be easier if I was taken from you," he pointed out, "Major Jensen would not manhandle you anymore."

Alex stiffened at the sound of his name, looking away from her patient as anger and shame swept through her tightened muscles.

"Not particularly," she bit out. "He's been... difficult to work with for a long time. You're just another excuse for him to bother me."

"And you allow this."

"I have no choice," she said. Bane hadn't been this interactive since he arrived so she was feeling somewhat indulgent to keep him talking, even if the topic was less than appealing. "There's a hierarchy here. Jensen, unfortunately, is above me. I have to depend on the guards for safety, so if I get him in trouble, I will be the one that pays the price."

"But yet you are a threat to him."

She couldn't help but snort in disbelief, shaking her head as she came closer to the bed, pulling the stool so she could sit.

"I'm a pest to him," she corrected.

"You underestimate yourself, doctor. Major Jensen fancies himself the ruler of every individual inside these walls. Every time you contradict him, every instance that you disobey him you are sending a message to all those who are forced under his rule. You constantly undermine him, and this conflict will continue to escalate, although it was most likely expedited because of my presence."

Alex frowned, gazing at the large man, her mind mulling over what he had just said. She absently reached out to finger the edge of the sheet hanging off the bed, a foolish move perhaps, but he hadn't shown any signs of aggression towards her since the first day.

"How would I prevent that?" she asked. "I don't want anything to escalate."

"You would be required to submit, just as everyone else does."

"I won't do that. I don't think I _can_."

"Why do you fight so hard against him?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he examined her.

"It's kind of a long story."

"I have the time, doctor. I assure you," he responded, sounding amused.

Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her lab coat around her even tighter, the cold air chilling her to the bone.

"Gotham has had crime problems for a long time. That's no secret. Before I worked here I worked at the Thomas Wayne Medical Clinic over in Crime Alley. It was a favorite stop for the criminal type, because we'd hardly ever call the cops, mostly because it didn't do any good. The entire city was corrupt. Murderers and rapists would come in and out of that place like it had a revolving door and not one cop ever showed up to get them. Instead, the system would put away the kind of men that didn't have connections. Men like Maroni would have guys sent away just because they didn't want to pay for protection. Fathers, brothers, innocent men were sent to prison just because they pissed off the wrong person. Then Harvey Dent came along, and between him and the Batman catching the real criminals, the prison was suddenly inundated with true felons, and all those innocent men in here didn't stand a chance. They had suffered before with the few bad guys that were actually prosecuted, but with the whole city's underbelly in here…" she trailed off shaking her head before continuing.

"By the time I got here, those guys were just absolutely terrified. I had read their case files and was shocked. The public defender's office didn't care about them and none of them could afford a real defense to appeal their cases. Gotham was just absolutely focused on putting men in prison for any crime. They didn't have the time to look at past cases.

"I had one patient, his name was Rocco Triano. He had owned a little corner grocery store in Falconi's neighborhood. When he refused to pay them, they had him sent to prison, while his family was never heard from again. One day the guards dragged him into the infirmary, and he was just... The nurses and I tried to save him, to stop the bleeding but there were too many wounds, and the whole time he was just _pleading_, but he wasn't asking to be saved. He was begging me to let him die, and then all of a sudden he just got this look of complete terror on his face, and I saw he was staring at Jensen, who had just come into the room. He ended up dying a few moments later, and Jensen just merely laughed, saying that Rocco finally learned his lesson about what happens to inmates who don't do as they're told. Over the next couple of weeks I tried to talk to some of the other prisoners, but the instant I mentioned Jensen they would freeze up. Not just the whole don't be a rat code bullshit, but they were genuinely scared.

"I understand that the guards have a very difficult job. I get that it's incredibly dangerous, but Jensen actively antagonizes and tortures some of these men. He enjoys it, and there are a few inmates here that still have some good left in them. I'm not trying to free them or anything, but I think they should be able to close their eyes at night without having to worry that they'll never wake up just because some guard decided that it was playtime."

Alex rubbed the side of her face, her gaze unseeing as she stared at the ground.

"So you seek to protect them?" Bane asked. "To keep them from the monster known as Jensen."

She nodded, her hand raising to play with her necklace.

"I do not believe that is the whole truth of the story," he replied.

Her brow furrowed as she looked over at him, dropping her hand.

"What do you mean?"

"The way he touches you, how you react to it... it reeks of intimacy."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically.

"No! I have _never_-"

"Calm yourself, doctor. I did not necessarily mean intimacy of the flesh, but there is more history between the two of you than just professional abhorrence."

Swallowing, Alex looked away, her breathing ragged as she tried to calm her heart. This was getting to be too much.

Too personal.

And his gaze was too significant.

"I think that's enough story time for one day," she breathed.

"Weeks ago you told me that I would not be allowed to get to know you, yet you've told me this."

Alex got to her feet, needing to get out of the room and away from him.

"And what did you learn?" she said, deciding that denial was the best option. "That I like some of my patients? That I hate Jensen because he's a bully? You can assume all you want, but you don't know anything."

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Now you underestimate me. I know who you are now, and, in time, the tangle of secrets around you will unfold before me."

Her body refused to move as she kept staring at him, wondering what he meant, regretting what she had told him.

"Pleasant dreams, doctor. You have my permission to leave."

Inhaling sharply, she forced herself to turn from him and leave the room, pulling the heavy door shut behind her before locking it.

Alex closed her eyes and rested her head back against the metal door, letting out a long breath.

What just happened?

* * *

Barsad gripped the cold handle of the door and pulled, the loud shrieking sound of metal on metal echoing throughout the empty foyer. Behind him, two men stood. Both had been laid up during the final battle, earning them sanctuary from the capture that the others had suffered. Only a total of eight men, not including Barsad, were left of the original force that Bane had brought to Gotham.

Still, Barsad believed it would be enough.

He entered first, followed by his brothers. Slowly, they climbed the stairs of the dilapidated apartment building, the stains and stench of the halls nearly overpowering. The paper thin walls allowed them to hear sounds of babies crying, people shouting, and televisions blaring. As they came to the apartment, Barsad lifted his hand and tapped on the door with two knuckles, the men behind him scanning the hallway for witnesses.

There were none.

"Who is it?" the nasally voice said from the other side of the door.

"You know who. Open the door," he answered.

After a moment, they could hear the numerous locks being undone before the door swung open, revealing a short, frail young man with huge glasses. Barsad pulled his head back slightly at the smell emanating from inside. The man's clothes hung off of his frame, stained and ripped from overuse.

"You can come on in, but your henchmen can stay in the hall," he said, giggling at his own words.

Barsad nodded to the men before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him. The small apartment was completely filled with garbage. Wires, old computers, laptops, televisions, radios, books, magazines, children's toys, and so much more. Rotting food rested between and on top of the stacks of junk.

"Right this way," the man said, shuffling through the crap to get to the small desk in the corner of the apartment. Six computer monitors glowed brightly in the otherwise dim apartment, empty pop cans littered the desk top, crumpled around the keyboard and mouse.

Barsad loathed that he had to deal with this man, but his talents were exceptional and the mercenary was never very skilled when it came to hacking.

"Did you find what I need?"

"Hey!" the guy laughed spreading his arms wide, "who do you think you're talking to? Of course I did."

He then turned and pulled up an image on one screen before doing the same to a few documents on the others.

"Take a look."

Barsad leaned forward and scanned the information before nodding in satisfaction.

With a few clicks the printer near his feet came to life, expelling the photo and information.

"So, you got my money? It wasn't that easy to get all that stuff. The firewalls were a bitch."

"First remove all traces of your findings."

The guy sighed and rolled his eyes, going to his computer and doing as he was instructed.

"I don't know why you're so paranoid. I know the game. Don't tell anyone what I was working on. I'm not a noob."

"I like the peace of mind that tying up loose ends gives me."

"Yeah, whatever. Just out of curiosity though, why do you need all that stuff?" he asked, just as he finished wiping the information from his hard drive. "What's a prison doctor got to go with you?"

The printer finished and the man turned around, only to come face to face with the silencer or Barsad's weapon.

Before he could get another word out, Barsad squeezed the trigger, blood spraying onto the now blank computer screens.

Leaning down, he picked up the papers as the man's body slid off the chair and onto the floor. Barsad calmly walked back to the door, opening it and nodding again to the men waiting, signaling them that it was time to leave.

"Got what you needed?" one man asked.

Barsad glanced down at the picture of the woman, a smile coming to his lips.

"I most certainly did."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Please, **please **keep them coming. I love the feedback. Also, thank you for the follows/favorites. I'm trying to keep up with the writing for as long as the creative juices keep flowing._

_I'm also curious, what are they kinds of things that you guys look for in a Bane/OC story? I can't promise it will all be incorporated, but again, it's feedback._


	4. Chapter 4: Hatred

Disclaimer: Not mine

* * *

_The world perishes, not from bandits or fires, but from hatred, hostility, and all these petty squabbles. -Anton Chekhov_

Paradise wasn't on a fluffy cloud, with cherubs playing harps and fluttering about.

Alex sunk deeper into the hot, bubbly water, resting her head against the back of the bathtub, her eyes closing as she sighed.

No, _this _was heaven… or just how she escaped the craziness that was her life.

Sometimes, she would come home, exercise until she felt like she'd drop, then sink into a nice, relaxing bath. Most days it was a quick shower before bed, but now that Bane was her patient, she found herself soaking more and more.

It kept her sane, and she really needed her sanity, especially after doing what she had promised herself, and him, that she wouldn't divulge any information about herself.

What was she thinking?

Oh wait, the answer was obvious.

She wasn't.

It was just that she was there, in his room, all day. Every day. Normally she'd see a patient for just a few minutes, maybe an hour, depending on how sick or injured they were, but with him she was there for weeks, just sitting in silence. He wasn't lecherous or mindlessly violent. He was calm, controlled, just staring at her with this look like he had everything all figured out, and he was merely waiting for her to ask him what to do.

He was supposed to go on and on about how despicable Gotham was; he was supposed to threaten her and her staff, snarl and snap, leer and growl, but nothing she had told herself had prepared her for this basic decency.

This unnatural quiet companionship, the one that she didn't hate.

Not even a little bit.

Groaning, she submerged herself under the water.

The God's honest truth was unsettling, that, compared to the others, he just wasn't that bad.

* * *

Donna Kincaid sat at her desk, staring at the box of letters as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

It was all hate mail. Pure and simple. Why the Warden set it on her desk, she didn't know. This wasn't part of her job. She took messages, organized his schedule, ordered office supplies, those sorts of things.

Not this.

Did he hate her? Was this punishment?

Warden Williams would have never put that box on her desk.

Finally, after an hour and a half of warily watching the container of mail, she got to her feet and shuffled towards his office.

"Sir?" she asked, peeking her head inside.

"What?!"

She jumped, her hands starting to shake at the sound of his angry tone.

Which was really just how he spoke to everybody.

"What do you want me to do with all of those letters?" she asked with a shaky voice.

The Warden grumbled, tossing his pen onto his desk and glaring over at her.

"You know who they are for, so perhaps you can take them to him. You've been here longer than I have, Donna. I'm sure you can find your way to the infirmary and back."

She swallowed hard, but nodded, shutting his office door and turning around, yelping quietly when she saw Major Jensen standing right behind her.

"Don't you worry, Ms. Kincaid. I'll take those to the doc's patient. Walking these halls unescorted is not fit for a woman. The Warden shouldn't have put that responsibility on your shoulders."

The older woman blushed, dipping her head down a little.

"Thank you, Major Jensen," she muttered.

He nodded and turned, grabbing the large box and lifting it easily into his heavily muscled arms.

"You have a pleasant day. Don't let the Warden bully you too much. Just remember, I got your back," he added with a wink.

Donna watched him as he left, a small smile coming to her face.

She didn't know why the doctor hated him so much. Major Jensen seemed like a perfect gentleman to her.

* * *

"Good morning, doctor."

Alex glanced over at her patient as she strode into his room and set a few files on her temporary desk.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, speaking as professionally and unaffectedly as possible.

"Alive, doctor. I was almost anticipating that you would attempt to avoid me after our discussion yesterday."

"I'm a professional," she said, walking towards his bedside. "If I can't take a little pestering from my patients then I'm working in the wrong place."

"'Pestering'?" he said, a slight chuckle evident in his tone. "I was under the impression we were two adults having an insightful conversation."

Alex licked her lips absently as she pulled the stool to her and sat near his injured side.

"And I informed you that I didn't _want _to talk to you," she said as she reached forward to pull back the sheet. At the last second, however, he shifted his hand, letting her skin just barely brush against his.

Alex froze, her gaze flickering up to meet his.

"Don't be unreasonable," he chided, tilting his head as his skin warmed her cool hand. "We are bound together for the foreseeable future. Surely there is something we can discuss that will pass the time."

She continued to stare up at him, her mind screaming at her to pull her hand away, even if the contact was just the top knuckle of her little finger against his palm. His bluish gray eyes held her captive and she found she just couldn't lower her gaze.

What real harm was there discussing a few things? He wasn't going to get out of here any time soon, and because of staff gossip most of her history was common knowledge.

He, however, was a mystery. Could she handle knowing? Would the stories she'd hear even be the truth?

She hated herself for it, but a part of her was curious. She knew there was nothing he could say to make her feel sorry for him, to sympathize with him, but she couldn't help herself. She had lied to him and herself. She _wanted_ to know what happened to him. She was curious as to how he would react to the everyday things in Blackgate.

Bane was like a terrible car accident, horrifying but for the life of her she couldn't look away.

"Alex?"

The sound of Gemma's voice snapped her from her thoughts, forcing her to look away from the intriguing man and over towards the door, only to see the nurse and Major Jensen standing there watching them. While Jensen's calculating stare took note of the situation, Gemma gazed worriedly from Alex to the patient, and then where his hand was against hers.

Alex snatched her hand away as if burned and shoved her fist into her pocket as she got to her feet.

"Were we interrupting?" Jensen questioned pointedly while Gemma slowly walked away from the room to go back to work.

"I was just about to change his dressings," Alex responded, her voice thankfully steady despite that she had been caught in a rather misleading situation. "Why?"

"Delivery."

Jensen came into the room and headed closer to the bed before Alex rounded the foot of it, coming to stand between the guard and her patient, who was once again perfectly quiet, observing them closely as if researching them.

Perhaps he was.

"What is it?"

Jensen glared down at the doctor before staring over her head at Bane.

"His fan mail."

"What?" she asked, suspiciously confused.

"Letters," he replied, as if he was talking to an idiot. "The piece of shit has gotten a shit ton of letters."

"From who?"

Alex reached out to take the box, only for him to turn and set it on her desk.

"I don't fucking know. Other pieces of shit? People who hate him?"

"All right," she sighed, getting annoyed. Typical that he'd insist on doing this task just to 'check in' on them. "Thank you for dropping them off, now get out."

His eyes narrowed and he stepped towards her, just as she put her hand out as if to ward him off of her.

"You know I was expecting that I'd be in charge of him by now, but you must keep him on a tight leash…" he mocked, "well that and keep everyone else away from him. Have you tamed the beast or have you just gotten better at hiding the bruises?"

"Don't start, Jensen. I can't take this from you today."

"You _are _looking a bit tired," he said, reaching out and cupping her face, using both hands when she tried to pull away before he continued with a smirk. "What's keeping you up at night? Stress? Tension? Need a big release?"

"Don't touch me," she bit out, grabbing his wrists and trying to pull free, only for him to yank her closer, her body bumping into his.

"Always with the orders. _Don't do this. Don't do that. _How about you just fucking smile and agree to everything. That will make you more appealing, you know that?" he said, staring down at her.

"And why would I want to be more appealing?" she ground out, still trying to get away, hating the feel of his skin on hers.

"Well you _are _the daughter of a thief and a whore. I'd imagine you'd know how to look pretty and spread your legs to get shiny things."

Alex quickly brought her leg up and slammed her knee between his legs and getting him right where it hurts. Quickly, he released his hold on her and nearly crumpled to the ground, his hands pressing against his crotched as he panted shallowly.

"Maybe _you _should worry about keeping _your _legs shut," she spat, glaring at the hunched over man. "And I swear to God, the next time you talk about my parents like that I'll remove them instead of kneeing them. Now get the fuck out of my infirmary."

Inhaling sharply, Jensen slowly forced himself upright, his fury-filled gaze focused completely on her.

"You just made a big _**fucking **_mistake," he growled before leaving the room, hobbling just slightly down the corridor.

Alex let out her breath, the adrenaline leaving her shaky so she now trembled. She knew there was no way that her knees would allow her to make to her chair or stool so she sat down on her patient's bed, bending over to cover her face with her hands.

* * *

The entire exchange, Bane had been silent, scrutinizing them. He wondered if Jensen had always acted like this, or was he putting on a show for his benefit and the doctor was just a means to an end?

Was this about him, her, or a combination?

He watched her shoulders, but despite their tense nature, they were steady. Good, she hadn't seemed like she'd cry when she was emotional. He wouldn't have tolerated that nonsense.

His gaze flickered over her profile, her hair tied back from her face, which was buried in her hands, her sleek body curved so her elbows rested on her knees.

His little doctor was a curious thing. While, she was clearly hesitant about him, she did not let it hinder his care. She was composed, guarded, and intelligent, but no young woman just ended up working in a place.

No, his doctor had a very good reason for coming here everyday. He just didn't know what it was.

Jensen had said it had to do with her parents.

_A thief and a whore._

Her response to the accusation had been swift, precise, and had nearly made him laugh when he saw the burly guard curl in on himself.

But still, the accusation had apparently fit. Earlier, she had mentioned working at Wayne Medical Clinic in Crime Alley before working at the prison. Criminals must be something she was familiar with, even comfortable with to an extent.

But a wild animal only becomes more desperate in a cage.

She was probably much more likely to get attacked inside Blackgate, but she still came here everyday.

She still faced _him _everyday.

Over the past few weeks, Bane had entirely too much time to think. Even in the pit he had not been this bored and reflective. A prisoner that had been a Jesuit priest had instructed him, gave him books that had survived down in the darkness. That was where he had gained so much knowledge. But now…

Never before had his mind been so completely stagnant.

The only thing he had now were his memories and, unfortunately, his doctor. For days, he watched her, her expressions as she read through convicts' files, the way she'd absently gripped her necklace, bit her lip, toyed with the edge of the sheet as she sat beside him, even how she had started adapting to his schedule, how quickly she was able to change bandages, and, thankfully, the way she'd maintained his morphine levels.

She was unruffled, quiet, and efficient. Not many individuals could make it as a tolerable companion, but he had high hopes for his doctor.

Already, he had scratched the surface of her exterior.

Already she had shown her hand.

Bane was willing to share some of his story with her in order to gain information from her. He had the utmost confidence that she would not repeat such things to others. She didn't seem to want the rest of the staff to even think about him, much less become interested by his stories. Even more, this room seemed to be an escape from the world for her. Most days, when she'd come back into the room after a long absence she'd take a deep breath, her body would relax just slightly, and she'd sit in the corner and work in silence.

When he'd close his eyes in meditation he would listen to her breathe, the soft, steady, rhythmic repetition of her inhalations and exhales. His last prison doctor had ruined his body, leaving him scarred and in need of constant care, but Dr. Connolly wouldn't allow his newest collection of injuries to wreak havoc on him forever.

No, in time, he would be back to how he had been before the Catwoman's lucky shot.

Tilting his head, he watched the enigmatic physician, so lost in her impotent hatred and worry.

It was a dangerous game she was playing, and she had absolutely everything to lose.

While she may be able to go home at night, the truth was that she was just as trapped as he was.

Blackgate ruled her.

Jensen victimized her.

And Bane was clawing his way inside her life.

All the while, she was completely powerless to stop it.

* * *

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Alex tightly squeezed her eyes shut, her fingertips pressing into her scalp.

She shouldn't have kneed him, but the instant he mentioned her parents she had lost it.

"This is very bad," she muttered, picking her head up to look out the door and into the hall.

"Do you regret your actions?"

"Of course I do," she said as she shifted her body to face him, her hip brushing against his knee. "He's going to do something horrible. I just know it. Do you know how bad this is going to be?"

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Right, of course you don't," she said, taking another deep breath. "This is very bad."

"You were defending yourself. You effectively, albeit crudely, stopped him from violating you. It's done. It's over for now. There is no use agonizing over hypothetical consequences."

"So what do I do?" she asked, since he apparently had the answers.

"You have a variety of options," he replied matter-of-factly. "Apologize to Jensen, although I believe that will be a useless and empty gesture coming from you. You can attempt to ignore the situation, which will leave you vulnerable since you won't be prepared, or you can be proactive instead of reactive. Plan your escape beforehand, be prepared instead of acting rashly and putting yourself in more danger."

"It's not just me I have to look out for, though," she said quietly.

"The individuals you concern yourself with are men who have to learn to handle themselves. It may require that they take a beating, but such is life. You, Dr. Connolly, do not have the luxury of allies in this place, not against the likes of Major Jensen."

"I hate this," she whispered after a long beat. "Why can't I just do my job?"

"Who else knows of your troubles with him?"

"Everyone knows we don't like each other," she sighed. "Besides you, though, no one has seen how bad he is in close quarters. They see us bicker, they don't see him... corner me."

"That isn't a coincidence."

Her green eyes met his cool steel gaze.

"I know."

Bane was silent as he considered her, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She didn't know that at that moment he was weighing his options. He could very well offer her guidance or allow her to sink or swim on her own.

* * *

"Keep the car running," Barsad said, slipping the black, leather gloves onto his hands, his gaze focused on the apartment building in front of him.

Middle class neighborhood, moderate criminal activity, mostly B&Es, an aggravated assault here and there.

Barsad pulled on the van's door handle as a young man approached the building, carrying an armful of groceries. Quickly, Barsad hurried across the street, just as the man punched his code into the door, juggling the bags.

"Here," Barsad said, grabbing the knob and holding the door open.

"Thanks," the guy replied, going inside, with Barsad following.

They both headed to the elevator, Barsad hitting the up button.

"You new to the building?" the guy asked.

"Just visiting a friend right now. I'm thinking of making a move, though."

"I definitely recommend it. Landlord stays out of your business as long as you drop the check off in his mailbox. I'm Ian, by the way."

The elevator arrived, and Barsad asked what floor Ian was going to.

The eighth.

"Your friend is on the same one?" Ian asked.

"Yes. Alex Connolly. Do you know her?"

"No shit. Yeah I know her," the guys said. "I'm across the hall from her. I didn't know she had friends… No offense, it's just that she comes and goes pretty quietly. Definitely not one for chit chat. I've probably lived across from her for a year now and she wouldn't know me if we bumped into each other on the street."

Barsad smirked.

"She's very focused on her job."

"I bet."

The doors opened on the eighth floor and Ian led Barsad out, both of them walking down the hall.

"What about the other neighbors? Any nosy ones?"

"Nope. Most are younger, work all day, just keep to themselves. It's nice to have the privacy. I'd hate it if I had some pain in the ass always trying to weasel their way into my business, you know? "

"Absolutely," Barsad replied, watching Ian try to fit his apartment key into the lock.

"Need a hand?"

"Thanks, man," he smiled, handing Barsad his keys.

He unlocked and opened the door, stepping into the apartment to hold it open.

"So most of the apartments have this layout," Ian said, going into the apartment and setting his bags on the kitchen table.

Barsad's hand slipped into his pocket while the other shut the door, watching Ian quickly reach out to grab hold of one of the paper bags that started to tip over, unable to catch it before two apples rolled out onto the table. As Ian sighed and grabbed the wayward fruit, Barsad slipped directly behind the other man, both hands now holding the ends of the garrote.

Poor Ian never had a chance as he felt the strong wire slip over his head and viciously snap back against his throat, cutting into his skin and forcing his windpipe shut. Dropping the apples, he tried to reach up to pull at the wire, but a foot swiftly kicked into the back of his knee, sending him to the ground and causing the wire to tighten even more.

Barsad waited patiently as the life slowly slipped from Ian's body before letting it drop to the floor. As he put the garrote back into his pocket, he looked around his new apartment, before he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.

"Come and pick him up," he ordered to one of the men that was still waiting in the van.

They would make sure no one would ever see the body again.

He was sure of it.

* * *

"Bring the box here."

Alex pulled away from where she had been peering into the box to look over her shoulder at him.

"What good could come from reading these?" she asked.

"Perhaps it will provide some much needed entertainment."

Alex had figured the man must be bored. He had a frighteningly sharp mind that was probably starting to atrophy.

Of all the things to read, however, hate mail seemed like a bad choice.

"The prison has a small library," she said, "I could get you something from there if you're bored."

"I hardly think that anything there would interest me, even if it isn't defaced beyond recognition."

He had a point.

She heaved the box from the table and carried it towards the bed, setting it next to the stool before she sat down at her usual spot by his side.

"You caused a lot of people a lot of pain," she commented as she gazed at hundred of letters. "They all hate you for it."

"I merely presented an opportunity. I did not personally kill them."

She stared up at him, unimpressed with his response.

Bane unapologetically returned her gaze until a sharp pain shot up his back, forcing him to clench his eyes shut and grit his teeth.

Alex quickly got to her feet, her eyes now scanning him from head to toe.

"Your back?" she questioned.

"Yes," he hissed as the pain started to dwindle.

"Will you let me look at it?" she asked, knowing that he didn't like for her to poke and prod at his scars.

"There is nothing you can do, doctor. I assure you."

Licking her lips, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, nudging it just slightly for him to turn.

"Please?"

Bane opened his eyes watched her for a long moment, his brow furrowed just slightly before he slowly rolled to his side, letting arm hang back because of the handcuff chaining him to the bedrail.

Alex leaned in, looking at the crude scars on the back of his neck and along his spine. All his pain was chronic, there were no new injuries on his back, nothing she could do to try to fix it.

"What happened?" she asked, pressing her fingertips against the flesh beside the scars, her touch light and gentle.

He was silent for a long moment before he asked, "Who are your parents?"

She pulled back slightly, allowing him to lay back down, her gaze finding the empty patches in his facial hair where she knew some scars must be buried.

"Mine is a medical question, yours is just personal."

"But my answer requires part of my history. How else would you compensate me for my answer but with one to my own inquiry?"

Alex shifted her weight awkwardly before sitting back down on the stool, one hand raising to play with her necklace while the other grabbed hold to the edge of the sheet, pulling on a stray thread.

So this was how she gave in to her curiosity.

It was inevitable, but the fear and tension squeezed her stomach nonetheless as she started telling him what he wanted to know.

"They were who Jensen said they were. A thief and a whore. My _mother_," she said, contempt making her spit out the word, "is a greedy, manipulative bitch, and my father was a terrible thief, as in he had no skill whatsoever when it came to stealing. I grew up in Park Row, in a crappy apartment with no heat or air conditioning. We didn't have hot water, and our electricity went out practically every day. My dad tried to work, but after the economy crashed there was just no way for him to make real money, not with my mother using every penny to buy herself something. She was obsessed with trying to look like she came from the elite social class. She'd sleep with anyone who would give her pretty things, and it broke my father's heart. Eventually he turned to stealing just to try to lure her back into our lives. He'd steal money and anything he could pawn, but like I said, he was bad at it. He was constantly in and out of prison the whole time I grew up. Mostly it was misdemeanors, but then some guy he worked with pissed off some gangster and he got sent to Gotham State Penitentiary."

She finally looked away from him, the stray thread of his sheet wrapped tightly around her finger, turning it purple.

"I've always loved my father," she continued, "and I tried to visit him as often as I could, but my mother hated going there. When I was old enough I'd go by myself, but I soon noticed he was getting thinner… paler… weaker each time I saw him for a visit. His lungs would rattle, his eyes were glassy. I'd worry, but he'd just try to smile and as me about school. Turns out, the doctor and nurses there were sadists. You hear stories about how they'd force their patients through procedures with no anesthesia at all, how they'd put the sick inmates in unsanitary situations, worsening their conditions. Eventually he died in that place. He probably only needed a shot of antibiotics, but the so called healers let him wither away and die just because he was a criminal. Mother wouldn't even claim the body, so he's buried under a tombstone with his prisoner number written on it… as if he wasn't even a man, a father, and that no one on the outside cared that he was gone."

"So you became a doctor to care for the few criminals that do have those people."

She nodded, unable to look over at him, as if she was ashamed.

"And your mother?"

"She's still alive. I think she's out in Blüdhaven with her new husband, but I haven't seen her in years," she muttered, waiting a moment before forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Now you. How did you get all those scars?"

"Prison."

She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"My previous incarceration was much different than this one. There were no guards or rules. We were all sequestered from the outside world, and life there was entirely Darwinian. I made a choice, did something which inevitably angered the other inmates. I was beaten, bound and bloodied," he said, as if discussing the weather instead of his torture. "I do not recall how long my suffering continued until they cut me loose and lost interest, but they did so because I had contracted a plague like disease. No one would approach me as the illness ate away at the wounds. Eventually, the prison doctor attempted to help me, but he was... unsuccessful."

"So the mask helps with all of it?" she asked, rolling a little closer to the bed.

"With the pain, it numbs it. I also require a custom back brace, although I am forced to assume that Gordon has that in his possession as well."

She nodded, agreeing.

Even with so many ailments, he was so frighteningly powerful. The doctor in her wanted to return those medical devices to him, so he could heal more completely and be more comfortable, but she knew Gordon would never allow it.

Besides, by letting him have those things, he would return to the Bane that they all knew, the one that nearly decimated the city, he would be a symbol that would wreak havoc on all of those inside Blackgate.

She couldn't risk it. The morphine was working for him, and when he was a bit more mobile they could work on stretching his back to strengthen it.

His previous methods were just not an option.

When she focused on him again, he looked amused, his gaze dropping towards the side of the bed.

"You can read me my letters now."

Her gaze hardened at his command, but she glanced down at the box as well.

"I don't think I can."

"Well I would," he continued, "but I'm afraid neither hand is free to do it. Although perhaps now that we've shared parts of ourselves with each other, you will trust me enough to unchain me."

"No," she said bluntly.

"Do you believe I will attack you?"

"Not particularly. If anyone sees you like that it sends a message. Jensen will see you as more of an adversary and threat then a bedridden patient. He's backed off of the few patients I... keep up with, and after this morning I already gave him a reason to try to get back at me. I don't need to give him another one."

"Fair enough," he said after a moment. "I believe the one written in blood red ink will be a good place to start."

Alex sighed and picked up the letter, hoping that it really was ink and blood.

"Just for a little bit," she warned as she opened the envelope and pulled the letter from its sleeve.

Taking a deep breath, she started reading.

* * *

That night, Archie Walker laid on the top bunk of his cell, his eyes closed. While there were always noises, this cell block was much quieter than the sixth, which housed the worst of the prisoners. The violence and depravity was overwhelming, men were beaten, stabbed, raped. The weak were preyed upon until they either took their own lives or lost it to someone else.

It had been hell living there, and he had hated every moment.

Dr. Connolly moved him to Cell Block 2 after a month of treating his arthritis. She was truly a light in this dark place, a godsend. Now, he had PI during his days and a relatively quiet place to rest his head at night.

Life inside Blackgate had always been a challenge, but now it was at least tolerable. The occasional letter and picture of his family, a day that wasn't filled with terror.

Yep, life was pretty swell for good ole Archie Walker.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep a loud voice spoke from just outside the cell door.

"Open on eight!"

Archie jumped up, grabbing the picture of his family from under his pillow as he heard Major Jensen's voice followed by the buzzing of the cell door sliding open.

"What's the problem, sir?" Archie's cellmate asked, only to be viciously backhanded.

"Speak when spoken to, con!"

His dark, anger filled eyes honed in on Archie and the older man quickly found himself being dragged off the bed and thrown onto the concrete floor, his head bouncing off of it like a rubber ball.

He knew better than to dry to defend himself as Jensen repeatedly brought his truncheon down on his body, the blows raining down upon him with unimaginable force.

"Come on, Archie," Jensen spat, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him out of the cell. He caught sight of the photograph and snatched it up. "You won't need this anymore."

With that, he ripped up the picture, letting the pieces flutter to the ground before spitting on it.

Again, he knew better than to speak, so he just stared at what was left of the image of his loved ones.

But he only had a short moment before Jensen grabbed him and dragged him away from his cell.

The pain radiated throughout his body, blood running into his eyes, welts swollen on his flesh as he tried to keep up with the guard's quick pace.

Dread filled him as soon as he noticed where they were going.

Cell Block 6.

"I got a real nice room ready for you," he said, walking into the block and leading him up the stairs. "Some serial rapist with a fetish for young girls. I figured you two would have so much to talk about. Open on twenty!"

The door slid open and Jensen shoved Archie through, the old man slamming into the cellmate who stood there, glaring.

Archie shuddered and looked over at the guard.

"Have fun, Archie, You can thank Dr. Connolly for your new accommodations. Close on twenty!"

The door slid shut, locking good ole Archie Walker right back into hell.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews/favorites/follows. It means a lot that people are reading and enjoying this. __I know it might be a little confusing now with the different storyl lines, so please let me know if I can edit it differently or whatnot._

_**Please review! I love the feedback! I really want this story to work and be good, so help me help you!**  
_


	5. Chapter 5: Dog

Disclaimer: Not mine

* * *

_The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend. -Lord Byron_

Three days.

It had been three days since she defended herself against Jensen.

Three days, and still he hadn't retaliated.

The guard definitely wasn't the merciful or reasonable type, so she knew he was planning something.

Her patient had told her to be prepared, but how does one try to cover for every contingency? She had no idea what was going through Jensen's mind, no clue as to how he would seek his revenge.

It was agonizing, and the whole time, she had no one to talk to about it.

No one, but him.

She didn't have a lot of options. The Warden wouldn't do anything about hearsay, she wouldn't dare drag Gemma into this in case Jensen started in on her, and her social circle was rather non-existent.

The only person who even knew that there was a problem was Bane.

Yes, she knew he was dangerous. Yes, she knew that he could be cruel and deadly.

But there was just something else, something she could feel but couldn't explain.

He had told her that she didn't have the luxury of allies in this place, but that wasn't wholly true.

He was something of an ally, offering her guidance, witnessing each incident with Jensen, observing the interaction and collecting information.

Even though Jensen usually cornered her in his room, she felt... safe there, in his presence.

It was wrong and she knew it, but it didn't stop the way she felt, because here was this powerful, lethal man who had turned Gotham City into his very own battlefield. This man who she honestly believed wouldn't hurt her unless she got in his way, and she thought, deep down, that maybe, just maybe, he was a little bit on her side.

Oh, God. She must be losing her mind.

He probably didn't care. He probably only watched her and Jensen because there just wasn't anything else to do.

Was she truly was all alone in this mess?

Probably.

But his hand...

The way he moved it against hers, reminding her that he was human, that, despite his legacy, he was flesh and blood just like the rest of them.

Why hadn't she moved her hand away? Why had she sat on his bed with her leg brushing his? Why had she put her hand on his shoulder?

Why couldn't she help herself?

"Alex? Are you okay?"

She turned her head, seeing Gemma staring at her warily.

"Of course. Why?"

"You've been staring at his door for the last five minutes," she said, pointing to the locked door behind which her patient resided.

"Just... a lot on my mind," Alex said, her brow furrowing.

"The shrinks are coming today, aren't they?" Gemma asked.

Alex nodded.

"Well, let's just hope they transfer him to Arkham. Then we'll be free of him."

Panic curled in her gut and tightened her throat, leaving her unable to respond for a moment before she nodded again, forcing herself to keep a calm exterior.

"Yeah, let's hope so," she muttered weakly before getting the keys out of her pocket and unlocking the door.

As Alex stepped into the room, she took a deep breath, her body relaxing slightly once she was inside. Her gaze met her patient's and she swallowed, moving to sit on the stool beside the bed. She bit the inside of her lip as she gripped the edge of the sheet.

"We need to talk."

* * *

Such a curious little thing.

Bane stared at his caretaker, watching her fidget slightly, but not because of him. Something was obviously amiss with the good doctor, which unfortunately seemed like a regular occurrence when it came to her. Between caring for him and dealing with that nuisance of a guard, it was a wonder how she even got to sleep at night. Although from the dark circles under her eyes, apparently she wasn't even able to do that. Still, Bane managed to find some enjoyment out of his interactions with her, be it conversations or merely watching her.

But it wasn't affection that he felt for her, that was entirely too personal, too caring.

No, his doctor reminded him of a mangy dog he had come across in Peru. They had been stationed in a small, rural village for days, and every night a stray dog would come around looking for scraps. The children would throw rocks at it, the adults would chase it away with sticks, but still the dog would always sneak back. After noticing this, Bane would stand outside the shack they were staying in and watch as the canine would trot out from the overgrowth and begin the nightly ritual of stealing his dinner. He remembered that the dog had a nasty limp, probably from an old injury that had been inflicted by someone in the village. No matter how cruel the villagers would get, the dog had never attacked anyone, only ran away for a few moments before trying to weasel his way back into the village. One night, Bane brought out a piece of meat for the pathetic animal, setting it on the ground in front of the shack and waiting. Sure enough, the dog had smelled it and approached, glancing between him and the meat. His steps had been hesitant, unsure, but he needed it to survive and Bane was the only one offering it. Bane hadn't moved, didn't speak, just watched as the dog finally came and snatched his meal, tearing off into the treeline.

The next night, Bane brought out another slab of meat, setting in on the ground once more. Again, the dog came back, hesitantly approached, wary as ever, before stealing the meat and running away. A few more days passed in the same fashion with Bane leaving scraps of meat and the dog stealing them, always guarded. One day, however, Bane fell ill, succumbing to a bacterial infection that had rendered him useless. His body had felt like it had been lit on fire, sweat dripped from his skin while he shivered uncontrollably. Talia had fetched a doctor, and he was put under quarantine. Bane had slipped in and out of consciousness, his world a blur of images and sensations. He remembered waking up for a moment only to feel a warmth on top of his hand. Looking down, he had seen the dog's head resting on the back of his hand, its big brown eyes staring up at him.

When the doctor came in to check on him, the dog growled, the hair on its back raising as its lips curled back to show teeth, causing Bane to stare down at the animal in surprise. He had watched people constantly beat the dog, and it never once snapped or growled, only now did it do so to defend and protect him. The doctor moved warily, but had told him that the dog had been at his bedside for days, guarding him while Bane's fever battled against his body. Hearing this, he had reached over and scratched the dog's head, the canine settling down and sitting beside him once more.

As his body had gained its strength back, the dog began to follow him around. When the people in the village tried to chase him off, they had found themselves in a very precarious situation, usually with Bane's hand around their throat. Talia had hated the animal and refused to allow the dog to follow them once they left the village.

Once their work was finished, however, Bane had found the doctor that cared for him and gave the animal to him. The man had seemed unimpressed, but it did not take much persuading from Bane to convince him that caring for the dog was the best for everyone.

Just like he had used meat to see how the dog responded, Bane had used touch with the doctor. It lured them in to him. He had wanted to see how she would respond, and she didn't disappoint. She had been suspicious, curious, but didn't deny him, and yet another attachment to him formed. Looking at the doctor, knowing that part of the reason why she was victimized by Jensen was because of him, he felt a small sense of responsibility and curiosity. There were too many enemies around her, and she needed someone, and the only person to offer it was him.

He had been forced to give the canine companion to another, but perhaps he could keep her instead, for she was proving to be loyal; she was competent in her work, and conversation with her didn't tax him. There were worse choices.

"What do you with to talk about?" he said, focusing his attention back to her.

Alex took a deep breath and straightened her posture.

"The shrinks from Arkham are coming today to evaluate you. They'll most likely recommend that you be immediately transferred to Arkham."

"And how does that make you feel?" he questioned in amusement.

She glowered, but knew that despite the tone it wasn't exactly a rhetorical question.

"I'm going to do everything I can to prevent the transfer."

"And why would you do that?" he asked, wondering if she would admit her vulnerabilities to him.

Alex swallowed, but maintained eye contact with him.

"Because you haven't fully healed yet. It would do more damage to try to move you over there and train another physician to take over."

Bane's expression revealed nothing.

"Now answer the question honestly, doctor."

Her stoic, professional demeanor faltered slightly, a sliver of fear flashing in her green irises.

"If they take you from me," she confessed quietly, closing her eyes as shame filled her, "then I will be alone in this mess. You are the only one here that he doesn't intimidate, and if you go to Arkham then there's nothing holding him back. He'll be furious and he'll take it out on me and although he acts like you're nothing, I know that he feels threatened by you."

"Days ago you refused to remove the chains because he would see it as a threat."

"If I _did_ remove them, he _would_ see it as such, but you're still hurt. You can't even walk yet. If I let you out of the restraints and you can't actually defend yourself properly then he's going to take advantage of that. I can't let that happen."

"He assaults you in front of me," he argued for the sake of gaining more for her confession.

"Because he know you can't do anything. It's all a power play."

"One you wish me to be your response to. Would you like me to kill him for you when I am out of this bed?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, gaze narrowing.

"No! I just... I'm trapped, and I'm just trying to find a way out, but I swear I'm not trying to use you."

Bane's eyebrows raised a bit as he considered her, watching as she worriedly looked around the room, trying to find words for feelings she couldn't name much less explain to him. Unless helped, she would break in a matter of days, and he did not have the time to see how useful she could be.

"Calm yourself, doctor. I believe you," he said, seeing some of the tension reluctantly leave her. "I am aware that as my strength returns to me Major Jensen will not only be your problem, but become my own."

"What are you saying?" she asked hesitantly.

"What I am saying, Dr. Connolly, is that as long as I am an inmate at Blackgate, then you are not alone."

Alex felt the weight come off of her shoulders, her eyes closing as she whispered a 'thank you' to her patient.

* * *

Barsad closed his eyes, his hands rotating slightly, his ears listening closely for that final click. Once he heard it, he opened his eyes, hand raising to open the door to Alex Connolly's apartment. Stepping inside, he looked around the place.

There were no pictures of family or friends, no overabundance of decorations or sundries. It was clean and relatively Spartan. A small kitchen table was nestled in the corner, a couch and television tucked in the small living room. On one wall, however, there were book shelves towering from floor to ceiling. Every space filled with bound literature. Turning, he peeked into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet to look inside. There were no real prescription medication, only over the counter pain killers, cold medicine, and what he assumed to be birth control pills. Along the edge of the bathtub were a whole slew of bath potions, ranging in color and smell.

Apparently the doctor allowed herself to indulge.

Cocking an eyebrow, he moved into the bedroom. A queen size bed was positioned in the center of the room. He approached it and took off a glove to brush his fingers against the sheets, feeling the softness of the fabric. As he fit the glove back onto his hand, he walked to the closet, pulling the sliding doors open. Barsad paged through the hanging clothes, finding a couple of dresses, but mostly blouses and dress pants for work. Tilting his head back, he saw a variety of sweats on the top shelf while on the floor were shoes. Unimpressed, he shut the doors before heading towards the dresser. There, he found a variety of bras and panties, with socks being in the top drawer. An entire drawer was dedicated to tight, stretchy exercise clothing, too. The top of the dresser had some jewelry and make up spread across the top of it, and Barsad sniffed the only perfume bottle that resided there as well.

Not too bad or overpowering.

The bottle, however, was mostly filled, so he assumed that she didn't wear it to work.

Probably didn't want the inmates leaning in and sniffing her.

He made his way over to the bed again, this time going through the drawer of the nightstand. Pens, scrap pieces of paper, but nothing important.

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, pulling the bed skirt up as he dipped his head down, finding a shoebox hidden beneath the mattress. He pulled it out and set it on the bed, scooting closer while he removed the lid.

Inside, he found photographs of her father, Nick Connolly. Barsad's file covered the convicted felon, listing his criminal record and general tomfoolery with GCPD. He was a sorry excuse for a man and criminal. Regardless of that fact, some of the pictures had a young Alex smiling next to the man, hugging him tightly as if he was the world's greatest father.

There were a few other things, old ornaments, a broken plaque of a child's hand.

Childhood memories.

He sneered.

Barsad believed such things were exceedingly overrated.

He put the lid back on and slid the box back under the bed, pushing himself to his feet before going to the kitchen.

Not surprisingly, the fridge was packed while the refrigerator was mostly empty. All she was missing were the fifty cats running around the place.

Sighing, he looked around, his eyes eventually falling back onto the wall of books.

There was everything from textbooks to novels. Classic literature and plays to philosophy and religion.

Quite the collection, honestly.

Barsad had never appreciated books. Bane had tried to get him to read some texts, but he preferred life experiences. Sitting down with a book never appealed to him, why would it when there were battles to fight and men to kill. Bane, on the other hand, avidly absorbed knowledge, consumed it, dissected it, refuted it, or incorporated it. The words he found were adapted and soon evolved into something much greater, but Barsad knew that a mind like Bane's was unique.

Still, maybe the doctor will learn to share with her patient. All the ideas and messages tucked between the bindings.

Barsad smirked at the opportunity that the books presented, his fingers sliding along the spines.

Yes, this will do just fine.

* * *

"Alex," Carol said, standing in the doorway, her wide eyes focused on her patient.

Gemma, at least, was able to be calm in front of Bane, but Carol looked like she'd faint with fear each time she was near the room.

"What is it?" the doctor said, glancing over at her patient to see if he was staring at the nurse.

No. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake.

"They're here. The Warden walked them over. They want to meet with you first."

Alex sighed and told her she'd be right out.

Once the nurse disappeared, she stood from her makeshift desk, tugging on her clothing, stalling.

"Best not to keep them waiting," she heard Bane say when she lingered too long.

She picked her head up and looked over at him, sitting there as calmly as can be. She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say so she merely shook her head and left, going down the hall towards the men waiting for her.

"Dr. Connolly, this is Dr. Arkham and Dr. Flanders," Zehrhard said, pointing to the two.

Alex shook their hands, smiling politely.

"How is his health?" Flanders asked.

"Stable. He still has some major healing to do, but there's absolutely no issues with infection. He's much better than he had been weeks ago."

"And he's coherent? Aware of his surroundings?"

"Very much so."

"Can we see him?" Arkham asked, pleased with this information.

"Sure, right this way."

* * *

Bane watched passively as the three doctors and the Warden entered his room. While the Warden looked annoyed, his doctor eyed the psychiatrists warily.

It seemed like he was the only one in the room that was at ease.

"Welcome, gentlemen," he said, breaking the tension, since they all seemed to be waiting for something.

"This is Dr. Arkham and Dr. Flanders," she said, pointing to them.

Bane continued staring, knowing the look unnerved those who approached him.

Dr. Arkham turned to Alex and said, "I understand he is currently receiving a high dosage of morphine."

"Yes, that's correct."

"Take him off of it."

"What?" she replied, frowning and slipping her hands into her pockets. "Why?"

"We don't want anything interfering with him while we evaluate him. It's important."

"No," she responded bluntly. "I'm not going to do it."

"Dr. Connolly, if it gets them out of here faster, do it," Zehrhard said.

"Sir, he's on that morphine for a reason. He's not in here because of a hangnail. He had serious injuries and has a history of chronic pain. If I take him off the drip he'll be in agony, and _that_ will interfere, unless that's what you're hoping for..."

Arkham turned red, his feathers ruffled.

"Don't you dare question our integrity when it comes to patient care."

"Then don't question mine. He stays on the morphine or we can go ahead and conclude this evaluation now."

Bane's eyebrows raised slightly at his doctor's display, once again reminded of the dog that guarded him in the Peruvian village.

"Do you always defend your patients so vehemently?" Arkham asked.

"You're here to evaluate him, not her," Zehrhard said.

While Arkham moved to sit in the desk chair, Flanders rolled the stool over to sit beside the other man, both of them at the foot of his bed.

"We can take it from here," Arkham said, dismissing the two Blackgate employees, but Zehrhard glared at them.

"We're fine right where we are."

Zehrhard and his doctor remained by the door as the other two pulled some paperwork out of their briefcases.

"We're going to start off with some simple questions, just sort of get the basics, okay?" Flanders said.

He didn't respond, just continued waiting.

"Okay, then. Is Bane your real name?"

Still, he didn't answer.

"How old are you?"

That, he actually did not know precisely, so he didn't say anything.

"Where were you born?

Arkham and Flanders glanced at each other. Their other famous patient, the Joker, talked constantly. Not particularly about something relevant, and it was usually lies anyway, but he was hard to quiet. Now, they faced this fortress of a man.

"Do you remember anything about your childhood?"

Still, he didn't say anything. He knew that the shrinks could warp any answer, find some small detail and read too much into it. He was aware of just how much fodder his past would be used for such purposes.

Arkham soon turned to his doctor.

"Is he like this with you?" he asked.

She glanced over at Bane, his gaze meeting hers but his stoic expression never changing.

"No," she said, tearing her eyes away from him. "He's spoken to me a few times."

Flanders shuffled some papers around on his lap.

"I don't understand why you won't speak to us," the younger man commented. "We're only here to try to help you get the care you need. We just want to understand what happened in your past that set you on this path that you're on now. We're not here to judge you or condemn you. You're misunderstood, not evil."

The Warden huffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head at the utter bullshit coming out of the psychiatrist's mouth.

Arkham glanced over his shoulder at Zehrhard.

"Hate it all you want, Victor, but our methods work. We treat our patients, you just lock your inmates up until they become animals. We can help this man with some medication and therapy."

"He's not insane," the doctor said. "But if you put him in that godforsaken asylum, it will most definitely drive him crazy."

"And how will locking him up in solitary help him?" Arkham shot back.

"Solitary?" she asked, rearing back a little, her gaze switching so she stared at the Warden. "You're going to send him to The Tombs?"

"You think I'd put him in Gen Pop? Cell Block 6? Within days, he'd organize all of the prisoners, and we'd have a mutiny on our hands."

"That's not the point," Arkham interrupted. "We need to get through this evaluation, and if he doesn't cooperate then we'll just keep coming back here. Simpson and I are going to go get a cup of coffee. Perhaps, Dr. Connolly, you can convince your patient to be a little more forth coming."

Both shrinks got to their feet, and Zehrhard led them out of the room.

Alex sighed and turned to face Bane, her gaze troubled.

"I had no idea they wanted to put you down there."

"Why would you? Your goal is to heal me, not plan my actual incarceration."

She nodded absently, pushing her hair back from her face. His next place of residence was not important at the moment.

"You've got to give them something," she muttered. "Just to satisfy them enough to leave."

She was unfortunately correct.

The three men returned, holding Styrofoam cups of coffee, and went back to where they had been before.

Alex continued watching Bane as the shrinks collected themselves.

"Dr. Arkham and I are going to ask you a few questions. I want you to answer using numbers. Zero will be for never, one for occasionally, and two for often. Just try to be as honest as possible, okay?"

Bane didn't move, just continued staring at the doctors, who looked over at Alex before continuing.

"Number 1: Do you have problems sustaining stable relationships?"

He considered the question, seeing his doctor flash a pleading look his way when his silence lingered.

Fair enough. He could play along, answer their questions.

Sustaining stable relationships. Relationships with those who he kept in his presence for an extended period of time were never difficult to maintain. It was with the mindless sycophants that he would kill if they bothered him.

"One," he said, nearly startling the shrinks with his sudden answer.

Alex released the breath she had been holding.

"Do you frequently manipulate or force others to do something in order to achieve selfish goals, with no consideration of the effects on those manipulated?"

"Two," he said.

"Are you cavalier about the truth, and capable of telling lies to some one's face?"

"One." While he was able to lie, he generally preferred to be brutally honest. The truth was usually much more frightening to use against his enemies.

"Do you feel you have an air of self-importance, regardless of your true standing in society?"

Perhaps he did lack a certain sense of humility, but someone so inherently smart, so ferociously strong, and able to organize and plan something like he had, it wasn't so surprising that he wouldn't be humble about it, but by that point, he had earned that right.

"One," he replied, figuring he had the privileged to feel that way.

"Do you have no apparent sense of remorse, shame or guilt?"

Bane stilled, his mind focusing on one person.

Talia.

When it came to her he felt all three for letting her down, letting her die alone. He couldn't imagine what her broken body had looked like; he knew it would have been blasphemous to see such beauty taken away in such a manner.

His perfect Talia, taken.

A darkness passed through him.

He had been ready to wipe out an entire city, and still he did not concern himself with such feelings. No, the rest of the world did not conjure such emotions within him.

Not even a little.

"Two."

"Is your charm superficial and capable of being switched on to suit immediate ends?"

"Zero," he answered. He didn't use charm to suit his needs. He had other means to do such things.

"Do you enjoy taking risks and acting on reckless impulse?"

"Zero." Bane was organized. He used strategy and tactics for every operation. While they were dangerous, he was rarely impulsive. Failure was not something he relished and that was often the outcome when one relied on luck and rash thinking.

"Are you quick to lose your temper?"

While normally cold, calm, and collected, he remembered the last battle with the Batman, how his anger and contempt had bested him, inevitably landing him here.

Not even Bane could control himself all of the time.

"One."

"All right then," Flanders said, writing down some notes before passing the paper to Arkham.

The two huddled together; Zehrhard shuffled his feet, his patience wearing thin.

"I think that's enough for now," Arkham said. "We'll be putting our request in to have him transferred immediately."

"What? Because of that?" Alex asked, motioning between Bane and the shrinks.

"Well he's extremely reluctant to talk about his past, and with some of his answers he shows some strong sociopathic tendencies."

"Ninety percent of my inmates are sociopaths," the Warden said. "That's why they're criminals! Talking about why daddy never loved you isn't going to change that."

"We're still going to take him."

"The people of Gotham want him locked away, not making arts and crafts to express his feeling!"

"Thankfully, it's not up to the people of Gotham."

The two shrinks pushed past them and into the hall.

"We'll have a van here to pick him up as soon as the paperwork gets through," Arkham said before they walked down the hall to leave.

"Can they just do that?" Alex asked her boss.

"They can try. The governor is an old friend, though. I'll make a call."

Zehrhard left, striding down the hall with purpose, leaving him alone with his doctor.

"That was such bullshit," she muttered, her hands fisting in her pockets. "That asylum is a goddamn mess. It only makes people more insane. All that screaming..."

She put the chair back by the desk before moving the stool to his side and sitting. When her tired eyes met his, she sighed.

"If you aren't transferred, I'll do what I can to keep you out of the Tombs."

"That will be out of your control."

She seemed to struggled with her words before she finally asked, "Are you going to try to escape?"

"If was planning that," he replied with a hint of bemusement, "why would I tell you? Would you not feel compelled to try to keep me here, away from the innocent Gothamites who fear me so?"

"No, I-"

Bane interrupted, mocking her still. "Yet you concern yourself with where I will be housed here. Whether I am in solitary confinement or surrounded by other inmates, it does not matter."

"Of course it-"

"Or perhaps you would rather I stay here, in this room, locked away from the world with no one but you to keep me company?"

Alex clenched her jaw, her gaze hardening as she glared at him.

"That's not fair."

"And what about life is?" he challenged.

Alex didn't know why he was provoking her, forcing her to question why she was fighting for him.

"Then tell me what you want to hear. I don't know where I want you. I just hate it that I need you around me. I hate it that despite telling myself that you're a monster I still find myself wanting to know about you. You think I enjoy the fact that sitting here with you for hours is actually the better part of my day, that I actually find myself giving a shit about what happens to you? Without you, I have no chance. So for God's sake, tell me what you want. Tell me what to do, because I've got nothing right now."

Nothing but him.

She was breathing harshly, the fire in her eyes dying slowly as they returned to watch him cautiously just as that dog had.

After a long moment, she dipped her body forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head falling into her hands.

He knew that she was afraid, suspicious, that she knew better than to trust a stranger, but what other choice did she have?

Slowly, Bane lifted his hand sliding it over the railing, the metal links of the chain rattling quietly. She had defended him, protected him, and even still needed him. He knew that, with time, she would prove herself.

His arm extended as far as it could go before he brought his hand down, patting her head gently, feeling her freeze beneath his touch but not move away.

Yes, she will do just fine.

* * *

_A/N: I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I ran out of patience with it. Thanks for the reviews/favorites/follows. They seriously make me grin each time I receive one. _

_I'm still struggling with explaining their dynamic, so please let me know what you think about how the relationship is developing. I beg you!_


	6. Chapter 6: Friends

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but I already wrote the next one so I might as well post them.

* * *

_Be careful the environment you choose for it will shape you; be careful the friends you choose for you will become like them. - W. Clement Stone_

* * *

__"Not to be cliché, Archie ole boy, but we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Archie stood, handcuffed, in the middle of his cell, staring at Major Jensen, one of the convict's eyes was swollen shut from his earlier beating. In fact, his whole body hurt, his arthritic joints were stiff, he was pretty sure he had suffered a fractured rib, and the contusions that covered him were a sickening purple color.

Oh yeah, he would not be winning any beauty contests in the near future.

Two guards stood on either side of Jensen, making sure no other prisoner would try to intervene. Not that it would happen. Archie had no friends in this cell block, which was a dangerous situation to be in here.

His cellmate was elsewhere, and Archie had tried to enjoy the few moments of peace before the correctional officers made their presence known.

Specifically, Major Jensen asking him who Dr. Connolly's other VIP patients were, and by ask he meant beat it out of him.

"So what's it going to be Archie?" Jensen asked, crossing his thick arms over his wide chest.

"What are you going to do to them?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Well, that's not really any of your concern now is it?"

"Why are you doing this? We've behaved. We haven't done anything wrong. I swear it."

Jensen laughed cruelly, taking a step to bring himself closer to the older, broken man.

"Don't you get it? This isn't about you. This is about that stuck up bitch who thinks she can get away with everything. This is about her not falling in line, her opening that fucking mouth and talking shit. I'd break her jaw myself if the Warden wasn't around all the time."

Archie lowered his gaze to the floor.

What had Dr. Connolly done to anger the volatile guard? Didn't she know he was a lunatic? Why wasn't she being more careful?

No one in this place was untouchable. Not even her.

But what if he didn't tell Jensen about the others? Would he go after her directly? Would he hurt her? Bruise her? Scare her?

Rape her?

He recognized the look Jensen had in his eyes when he talked about the doctor. It was a look he had seen in many of the inmates in the prison. Major Jensen was chomping at the bit to get to her. Archie couldn't let him get her. She was the best thing in this place and Archie would never forgive himself if he was the reason why she got hurt, even if she was the one playing fast and loose with her safety.

Maybe if he told Jensen it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe just a beating? If the other patients and he weathered down, perhaps they could make it. After all, they owed Dr. Connolly. If they took the heat, maybe she wouldn't get burned.

Unlikely, but he didn't think he had any other choice.

"What do you want to know?" he whispered quietly.

Jensen grinned.

"Just their names. I'll do the rest."

Archie closed his eyes for a moment.

He felt sick, like he'd vomit. This was wrong, this went against every prison code he was forced to pick up over the years, but what else could he do?

This was the lesser of two evils.

Pushing the bile back from his throat, he took a deep breath.

"Javier Artiga and Mark Belmont."

Strong hands came down on Archie's shoulders, nearly making his knees buckle.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Archie looked away, wanting the guards to just leave him alone now.

But Jensen continued. "Then again, that wasn't the hard part."

Brow furrowing, Archie glanced at Jensen in confusion.

Before he could even ask, Jensen's large, solid fist collided with the side of his face, pain exploding from the point of impact, sending him sailing backwards and into the concrete wall. His hand rose to cover his face, the handcuffs digging tightly into his wrists while his body instinctively curled into the fetal position. Soon, he felt the trudgeon coming down upon him again. As agony seeped deeper into his body, as the blows became harsher, stealing his breath from his lungs, Archie clenched his eyes tightly shut, trying to tell himself that it would be worth it.

That, soon, everything would be okay.

* * *

Alex hugged her bag to her side as she rode the elevator up to her apartment, unable to stop her mind from going over the day.

Or more specifically, how she had let herself show too much in front of her patient.

Yes, she desperately wanted to keep him around, but it wasn't as if she was having inappropriate feelings for him. Sure, he was interesting and every time he opened his mouth it was as if something commanded her to shut up and listen. There was always this sense of total control and serenity surrounding him, strange considering how much panic and unrest he had caused, but inside Blackgate, inside that room, it was quiet and she was content.

So when that was threatened, when the prospect of him leaving her to deal with Jensen alone, that the only other person who knew what was happening was about to disappear into the depths of Arkham's shrieking padded rooms, she panicked.

Spilled the truth, showed her true emotions, her vulnerability.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back against the wall of the elevator.

He had patted her head.

That, perhaps, was the strangest aspect of the day.

There she was, trying to reign herself in, and he had just gently patted the top of her head.

Thinking on it now, she wondered how often a man like him had tried to comfort someone, to let them know that he was going to support them.

Her money was on not often.

Maybe that was why his attempt to calm her turned to be more like him reassuring a pet.

Well, it was the thought that counts, she supposed. She doubted there were very many people on this earth that he would have done that to, so she was able to recognize the gesture for what it was, despite the awkwardness she had felt at the time.

Shaking her head, she opened her eyes.

Alex needed to get him out of her mind. She was off now, time to focus on her own life.

And what a life it was.

She snorted as the doors opened out onto her floor. Walking down the hall, she rubbed the back of her neck.

What she needed to do was get a life?

Friends, hobbies, social outings.

Distractions.

As she juggled her belongings to get the key in the door, her cell phone rang. Sighing, she let her purse drop so she could pull the device from her pocket and answer it, putting it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Connolly?" Victor Zehrhard said on the other line.

"Yes? What is it? Did something happen? Do you need me to come back in?" she asked worriedly.

"No, no. Everything is fine. I just wanted to tell you that the Governor backed Gordon and me. Arkham tried to go through the Mayor, but turns out the people of Gotham really do have a say. Bane will remain in Blackgate."

Alex bit her lip to stifle the sigh of relief that tried to escape.

"Thank you for informing me, sir."

"I'll see you tomorrow, doctor."

Hanging up, she sagged forward, letting her forehead rest against her front door.

She wouldn't be alone in that place.

"Need some help?"

Gasping, she whipped around, seeing a man standing behind her, his hands raised in a sign of surrender.

"Sorry," he muttered, smiling shyly. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just heard someone drop something and was about to offer my services."

Alex swallowed, her gaze darting past him and to the open apartment door behind him.

"You new to the building?"

"Just moved in, actually. I'm Sean, by the way," he said as he offered her his hand to shake.

"Alex," she replied as she shook his hand.

"So, do you need some help?"

"Oh, no," she assured as she reached down to grab her purse. "It was just easier to drop when my phone rang."

Once she straightened, she smiled at the man again, finally getting a good look at him. He was lean and not overly tall, his brown hair was somewhat unkempt, but it was his eyes that drew her focus. The blue irises were almost hidden behind hooded eyes, and the lazy smile he flashed her made him seem tired, but the man seemed perfectly alert.

"All right then. Maybe you could give me a hand then."

"What with?" she asked, hoping he didn't ask her to help move boxes. She was definitely not in the mood to move anything.

"I haven't had time to stock my fridge, so I was hoping to order something, but I don't know the area yet. If you point me in the right direction, I'll order enough for two and share."

She considered the nearly empty status of her own kitchen, but demurred.

"Unfortunately there's not a lot around here. Your best bet is trying to get to the store before it closes," she said, turning to go back into her apartment.

"Thanks for the tip," he replied coolly.

Just as she opened her door, however, she paused.

She was just telling herself that she needed more friends, someone to just spend some time with outside of work, and not moments later she was shooting down an opportunity. It was a dinner. One meal. People go on blind dates all the time with strangers, and if he lived around here he probably wasn't that bad.

It was a good neighborhood.

Besides, if he was a serial killer, any competent one knew not to kill where he lived, so she supposed she had that on her side.

No. Not everyone is a criminal.

She was going to do this.

Turning back around, she saw him about to disappear back into the apartment.

"Wait!" she called out, watching the door stop for a moment before it was opened again. He came back into view, leaning against the door, a patient look on his face.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, it's just been a strange day," she said as she rubbed her face for a second, trying not to feel awkward about this. "While there really isn't any good food to order, there's a bar down the block that serves amazing burgers if you're interested. I'll by the first round as an apology for being rude."

He licked his lips, that lazy smile coming back to his face.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Great. Just give me a moment to change."

* * *

Barsad watched as the doctor hurried into her apartment, the smile still playing at his lips.

That had actually been easier than he thought it would be. A single, young woman who lived alone and worked at a prison... One would think she'd be a bit more hesitant to spend time alone with a strange man, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Shifting his weight, he continued to stare at her apartment door.

Now all he could hope for was that she wasn't too difficult to put up with.

So basically, the opposite of Talia.

He had never known why Bane loved that woman so much, why he adored her. Barsad, personally, never saw the appeal, although throughout the years, he had quickly quelled such talk among their brothers and comrades.

About how the beast known as Bane was reduced to a puppy trotting after his master.

About how the vixen controlled and manipulated him with hooded eyes and gentle caresses.

Barsad had killed men for speaking such things, even when he occasionally thought the same.

It wasn't a secret that Talia al Ghul had long ago bewitched Bane, and the deadly woman knew how to wield that weapon with skill and precision.

She had also recognized that Barsad was a threat to that. His cold logic swayed Bane's decision a few times over the years, her decisions being discarded for his strategic moves.

Barsad had loathed that every day, every meeting with the woman was like a chess match. He hadn't the patience for the subtleties of manipulation and subterfuge.

He remembered glaring at her as she'd slink up to Bane, brushing her hands against his shoulder, throat, and the mask, cooing to him softly.

That woman brought men to their knees, and while Barsad usually preferred other ways, her methods had been sound.

And now, it was his turn to give it a try.

* * *

Alex returned to the hallway, shutting the door behind her, a shy smile at her lips.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, motioning her to walk with him.

"So did you just move into town or from a different neighborhood?"

"Different neighborhood, but I had too many roommates and decided living on my own might be a better idea. Besides, Gotham isn't really a place people want to move to, especially now."

"I guess you're right. I grew up here, but went out-of-state for school. As soon as I was done I came back."

"It drag you back?"

She shrugged carelessly as they went into the elevator.

"No, it's just... home."

"And therefore where the heart is."

A small smile came to her lips as she gazed over at him.

"Exactly."

His eyes lingered on her for a moment before shifting away as the doors of the elevator opened up to the lobby.

"So what is it that you do for a living?" he asked, motioning her out first.

"I'm a doctor."

"Private practice or hospital?"

She laughed a little cynically while pushing the main door open and walking onto the sidewalk.

"Neither," she commented as they walked down the street. "I work at the prison."

"Blackgate?"

"That's the one."

He gazed at her in surprise for a moment, before making a small noise and shaking his head.

"Well I'm sure the inmates love getting a look at you on a regular basis, but isn't that... I don't know... dangerous?"

"Sometimes, but mostly it's just highly supervised first aid and handing out medications, and paperwork, obviously."

"Must be thrilling."

Again, she laughed.

"I often find it difficult to quell my enthusiastic excitement," she replied sarcastically.

"At least you enjoy it."

She rolled her eyes.

They arrived and went inside, finding a table back against the wall of the dimly lit, nearly empty bar.

The bartender headed over and Alex got a beer, while Sean ordered something stronger before putting in their food orders.

"So what about you?" she asked. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm between projects right now. I used to be a consultant of sorts."

"What kind of consultant?"

"Urban Development."

"Sounds pretty technical."

A bemused smile came to his lips, but his hooded eyes remained focused on her.

"I'm sure my on the job stories would bore you to tears."

Alex shrugged as the drinks arrived at the table. She took hold of her bottle and held it up.

"Well, to new neighbors."

"New neighbors," he echoed, clinking his tumbler to the darkened glass of the bottle.

She took a long sip of the beer before setting it on the table, her gaze flickering around the bar before settling on her companion.

"This is nice," she commented. "I don't get out very often."

"Don't feel too bad about it. My social circle is more similar to a social speck."

"Well maybe we should do this again. Dinner and drinks."

He smirked slightly, leaning back as his eyes continued to focus on her.

"Are you sure? We just met, what if I'm a dangerous sociopath?"

"You mean like every other man I see on a regular basis? I think I'll take my chances. Besides the... geographical convenience, I think it would be good. Don't you?"

His focus shifted to his drink before he sipped it again.

"Are you asking me if I want to be friends?" he teased.

"I guess I am," she replied, her heart fluttering in her chest.

She wasn't completely sure why she was asking him. Besides Suzy Gibson in the second grade, Alex had never tried to befriend another person, but maybe the loneliness of her life was finally getting to her. The nurses she worked with were beginning to give her suspicious stares, and the only other person she talked to was a well-spoken invalid who terrorized her city. Yes. It was definitely time for Alex to get out more, to get a life outside of work and maybe the polite young man moving in across the hall was the universe giving her a sign.

"Well then, I guess my answer will have to be a yes. I lost my only friends a while back, I think it's time for me to start filling that void."

The bartender approached, bringing another round and their food before leaving.

This time, he raised his glass.

"To new friends."

Alex couldn't help the smile that came to her face as she tapped her beer to his drink.

"To new friends."

* * *

Gemma stared at the plain steel door, one of the many things that attempted to keep the animal in its cage.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the nearly empty infirmary. The one orderly was playing Solitaire on the computer in the doctor's cluttered office. The other had gone outside for a smoke, leaving her alone for the first time this evening.

The evening she requested to work.

To talk to him.

She knew it was against the rules. Major Jensen, the Warden, and Alex had clearly explained to everyone that absolutely no one was allowed in the beast's room, but Gemma couldn't help herself.

The doctor was digging herself into a hole and was too self-assured to see it.

The Warden was too busy to care, and Alex's inexplicable aversion to the one man in the prison who could probably protect her was only burying her deeper.

Someone needed to do something, and that was her. For a while now, she had appointed herself as tacit caretaker to the young doctor and once again she needed to step in on her behalf.

Taking the key that she had stolen from Alex before she left, she approached the door, her breathing erratic.

She began unlocking the door, still looking over her shoulder before slipping into the room, the faint light overhead was barely enough to let her see. Extending her hand, she turned the knob, brightening the room slightly, only to feel her heart lodge into her throat as she met the gaze of the prisoner shackled to the bed.

"Stumbling about in the dark, Nurse?" he spoke. "Someone is bound to notice you are where you art not to be."

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes for just a moment to gather herself. Working at the prison for ten years should have made her more prepared for this.

"That may be, but I needed to speak to you."

"Indeed?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side. "And what would to good doctor say about that?"

"She's not going to find out. I need to talk to you... for her benefit."

The man continued to watch her calmly.

He almost seemed amused by the nurse, but she was smart enough to know better.

He did not want her here and if she stepped wrong there would be hell to pay, restraints be damned.

"Leave her alone," Gemma ordered, sounding a lot more sure of herself than she felt.

Again, the man merely stared.

"She's young and, for some reason, paranoid. She spends all day in here, and no good will come of it. The Warden will think she's sympathetic to you, Major Jensen won't be able to protect her, and she'll lose her job or get hurt, maybe even killed... that is if you don't attack her first."

"I assure you, when she is attacked, her abuser will not be me."

"What are you saying?" she asked, feeling panic rising in her gut. "What do you have planned?"

Again, he did not react.

"Tell me! I know your kind. We're all just rats in a maze to you, aren't we? Pawns on your fucking chessboard. That girl has been through enough! She doesn't need you to play with her because you're bored. Do you hear me? You've ruined enough lives. Don't ruin hers!"

"And how am I going to ruin her? I am tucked away from society, chained to a bed, an invalid. How exactly am I controlling her?" he questioned.

"I don't know for sure, but you are. I know it. Just leave her alone."

Gemma's hands shook as she met the placid gaze of the inmate. She took a step backwards, knocking into the doctor's stand, a few papers falling to the floor as the nurse exited the room, locking the door behind her.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the door.

Feeling like she might have just made things worse instead of better.


	7. Chapter 7: Victim

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Warning: Some non-consensual stuff happens at the end of the chapter. Tread lightly if that bothers you.

* * *

_I am not a victim. I am an angry survivor. - Nina Bawden_

* * *

"Well, well, well. Don't you look chipper this morning," Carol commented, smiling at the doctor.

Alex shrugged, unable to hide her smirk.

"Just had a good night is all."

"Oh... meet someone?" the nurse asked, desperate for gossip that didn't involve violence and bloodshed.

"It's not what you think."

"Then what should I think?"

Alex sighed, leaning against the doorway to her office.

"I went out to dinner with my new neighbor. It was... really nice, actually."

"You sound shocked," Carol laughed.

"Well, can you blame me? I'm here most of the day. Most of my conversations are with prisoners or about prisoners. I think I forgot how nice it is to just have a carefree conversation with someone outside this place."

"Is he cute?" she asked.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"What?" the nurse asked, following the doctor as she went to the supply cabinet. "It's a legitimate question."

"I told you it wasn't like that."

"But you're an unattached, young woman. You can give an opinion."

Alex sighed and turned back to the nurse.

"I guess he could be considered alluring to some women."

"To you?"

The doctor flashed her a look.

"Okay maybe not. Just friends, then?"

"If that, I guess. We made plans for this weekend. I don't think he's got the wrong impression about me, but is it pathetic that I just sort of want someone to talk to?"

"Of course not. Alex, you can't burn it at both ends all the time. Being here is your work, not your life. You deserve to be able to go home and relax, and if this neighbor can get you out of your head for a while then try to make it work. Don't over think it. We're surrounded by violent, bad men all day, but that doesn't mean you need to be suspicious of every guy out there. I think an alluring neighbor is just what the doctor ordered."

Alex chuckled quietly, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling.

Maybe Carol was right.

Sean had been charming the night before. The conversation had flowed; laughter occasionally flitted between topics. He hadn't tried to come on to her, in fact he just put her at ease and she had a good time.

"I guess this means I'll just see what happens," she said at length.

"That's the spirit, because honestly what's the worst that can happen?"

* * *

Vladimir Datsik was a ghost.

The man personified stealth.

He was silent.

He was deadly.

In crowds, he went unnoticed, a whisper of death to those that had the unfortunate luck to appear on his list.

For years, he had been a trained killer, traveling all over the globe for hired hits, slipping into impenetrable fortresses, slitting the throats of those who believed themselves invincible.

Until his mentor betrayed him, sold him out for 20 million euros.

A guerilla warlord of a country that no longer exists was more than happy to pay the sum.

Apparently Datsik's past target, the one currently rotting in the ground, had been the brother of the self-appointed general. So his most trusted ally turned on him, handing him over to the vengeance seeking tyrant.

When it became obvious that Datsik wouldn't talk about who hired him, they had cut out his tongue.

It had only been the beginning, for Datsik still had to be punished for his crimes.

For nearly two weeks he had been tortured, played with in the most brutal and sickening ways.

It had been hell.

But not the end.

Datsik, to this day, could not remember everything that had happened to him. The delirium of fever and pain crippled his consciousness. Only flashes of agony and disembodied voices filled his memory. One moment he had been in his dank cell, the next he was breathing fresh air for the first time in days.

He had been able to feel the cool soil beneath his aching body, cushioning his injuries where the blood splattered stone had not. The night sky had been clear, but his eyes were too unfocused to see the expanse of stars above him before the silhouette of a very large man filled his vision. He could hear exaggerated breathing before an industrialized voice spoke to him.

"Vladimir Datsik. You do not live up to your reputation."

Datsik struggled, his inflamed wounds sending scorching protests through his body before he managed to sit up, pausing only for a moment before forcing himself up onto his knees. If this mountain of a man was going to kill him, Datsik wasn't going to take it by lying on his back like a submissive mutt.

"Do not judge him too harshly," another voice said, the seductive tone of a woman reaching his ears.

Datsik forced his eyes to focus, finally seeing two other figures.

The woman approached him and crouched down, her dark eyes meeting his gaze before she stared at his injuries, her hand raising to gently run her fingertips over the swollen, bruised knot on his forehead.

"We have a proposition for you, Vladimir."

"This man allowed himself to be captured, Talia. He is not skilled enough to work with us."

Datsik looked past the woman to the beast, looking at the monstrous mask.

He had worked with many dangerous men before, but this man was mythological. There had been whispers of a man in a mask. Silent as death with strength that no man could defeat. He was a demon born in the depths of the inferno.

"True," the woman, Talia, said, still caressing his face, drawing his attention back to her. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Datsik lowered his gaze, his jaw clenched tightly.

A moment passed before Talia dug her nails into the already abused flesh, blood erupting from his slowly healing wounds.

"Do not try my patience," she ordered, tenderness still in her voice.

"He can't speak," the third figure finally said, stepping from the shadows into the moonlight.

Datsik's gaze fell to the weapon in the man's hands, then looked over him, the easy stance and hooded eyes.

"They cut out his tongue. It's usually their first move. Am I right?" he asked.

Datsik nodded.

"Krychek sold you out, yes?" the third man continued to question.

Again, Datsik nodded.

Talia stood, but didn't move away, just continued to stare down at the man.

"You aren't the only one Krychek has double crossed, which brings us back to the proposition that we have for you. Word has gotten out about your... predicament," she said, giving him a distasteful look at his soiled, bloodied self while she wiped her hand on her pants. "Your stock has dropped consideringly, in fact, consider yourself blacklisted by nearly all potential clients."

Datsik continued to stare blankly at her, already having figured out this news days ago.

"Find Krychek, bring him to us, and we will give you a chance to redeem yourself. Join us and you will have the opportunity to prove that your career is not over, that you are not some broken toy we pulled out of the bottom of the pile."

He knew the offer was the best thing he could hope for. They all knew it. He glanced over at the large man before letting his gaze travel to the third figure.

Apparently, the giant did not appreciate his hesitation.

"Talia, the man is useless. This betrayal will tarnish his professionalism, and we will not be able to ensure his loyalty."

Datsik glared, gritting his teeth as he struggled to get to his feet, nearly collapsing to the ground from his efforts, but, after a moment, he stood before them.

He was a killer, yes, but he had honor. He was no traitor. These three saved his life, gave him direction, and a way to get revenge on his mentor.

"My love," the beautiful woman said to the masked man. She slid next to him, her hand cupping his strong neck before stroking the mask itself. "You were once a broken man stuck underground. I rescued you and gave you new purpose, and now you are invincible. I can do the same for him," she whispered, gazing over at Datsik. "He has the skills and follow through. He will be an asset."

Datsik glanced over at the third man who looked wholly unimpressed with the woman, but was watching the masked man closely.

After a long moment, the man nodded.

The one that Dasik would soon know as Barsad approached him, letting his weapon hang from his side before slinging Dasik's arm over his shoulder.

"Welcome to the team," he murmured, a sly smirk lazily curling at his lips. "Don't fuck it up."

And he hadn't.

For years, he was the shadow of death for Talia's cause. While Barsad and Bane were soldiers, Dasik was the stealth and subtlety of the missions.

But that ended the day the bomb was supposed to detonate.

He had been in the skirmish, fighting back the police as Bane laid unconscious and Barsad bled. Dasik killed six cops before Bane's forces were overpowered. The unnamed hoodlums of Gotham that were on Bane's side solely for the money tried to run, but most were forced to their knees with their hands behind their head. Dasik had hurried off to his brother's side, forcing Barsad to move and hide. Once he was safe, Dasik had tried to get to Bane, but instead he was surrounded by GCPD and thrown to the ground, the cold metal shackles constricting his wrists.

Weeks later, he had a new home inside Blackgate Penitentiary.

* * *

"Want to tell me how this happened?" Alex asked the young inmate, who couldn't have been over the age of nineteen.

The man's gaze was vacant as he stared at the ground.

The left side of his face was blackened with bruises, swollen around his orbital bone, but she continued to quickly and methodically stitch the laceration on his forehead.

"You don't have to name anybody," she said, as tears welled in the man's eyes. "I can put in a request for you to be sent to ad seg."

The man's body tensed as his eyes flashed towards the guard standing in the doorway.

Alex frowned and looked over her shoulder at the long time correction officer.

Officer Hurley. One of Jensen's loyal followers.

Alex bit the inside of her bottom lip for a moment before speaking.

"Office Hurley, could you please wait outside for a moment?"

"Jensen said not to leave you alone with prisoners," the man's nicotine ravaged voice responded.

"Well this inmate has been here for eighteen months without a single incident of violence towards any staff member, so I'm going to take my chances. Get yourself a cup of coffee."

"I follow Jensen's orders, not yours, doc."

"Jensen's orders allowed this man to be beaten unconscious, and now I have to check him for any other injuries. So I'm going to have to insist on some privacy, and since this is my infirmary you're going to do as I say. If that's a problem, go ahead and snitch to Jensen, but do so _out_ of my examining room," she said, walking towards the door and holding onto the handle.

Hurley glared at her for a moment before stepping out of the room, his hand already raising to the walkie on his shoulder to get a hold of his superior.

Alex shut the door behind him and went back to her patient, pulling a screen towards them to hide the man from view.

She didn't need to check him, she already knew what injuries he had and treated them.

Now she needed him to talk.

"Why don't you want to go into ad seg?"

"With the rape victims? No one has made me their bitch," the young man said, a false sense of confidence in his voice as he leaned over to rest his head in his hands.

"Yet."

Alex knew the signs. This young man was targeted. Some predator set his sights on him. He had days before he would be victimized even more.

The inmate let out a quiet sob, his shoulders shaking.

"Let me help you," she said quietly.

"And have the guards after me too?!"

The doctor reared back a little, her brow furrowing.

"What are you talking about?"

"I said too much," he muttered, wide, terrified eyes flickering around the room.

"They can't hear you," Alex said calmly, feeling any good emotions from the night before dissipate.

"The guards," he whispered. "They're going after your guys. The old one with the fucked up hands."

"Archie?"

The prisoner nodded.

"Yeah, Jensen fucked him up real good."

No... not him.

Alex ran her fingers through her hair, her mind racing. She knew Jensen was pissed about what happened, but to take it out on them?

"That son of a bitch," she sighed, picturing Archie suffering.

"Don't tell no one I told."

"Of course," she nodded, licking her dry lips.

"Can I go now? Boss will get suspicious if I'm too long."

"Yeah. Just be careful."

She stepped away and moved the curtain back before leading him to the door. Officer Hurley was quick to glare at her before shoving the inmate down the corridor.

Once they were out of the infirmary, she made her way around the corner to the back where her main patient was. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the key and, for the first time that day, entered Bane's room.

The man was already awake, staring at her and waiting for her arrival.

Of course he was.

The young inmate had required her attention immediately that morning, putting off the regular routine that she usually upheld with Bane.

"Sorry I'm late," she muttered absently, moving into the room, only to freeze when she saw the papers spread out on the ground.

Papers that had been securely tucked into a folder.

"Who was in here last night?" she asked, looking over at her patient.

But he merely narrowed his gaze as he observed her.

"Tell me who was in here? Was it a guard?"

There was a tinge of panic in her voice as she approached her usual spot at his bedside.

"And why do you presume that it was a guard?"

Alex glanced at the doorway before moving even closer to the bed, her thighs brushing against the mattress.

"Because apparently Jensen isn't the only one I have to worry about."

"So he has his subordinates involved now? I must confess, doctor, you seem to either invoke extreme loyalty or severe antagonism in people."

Not unlike him, in a way.

"And which category do you fall into?" she couldn't help but ask.

He stared up at her, taking in her closed off expression, looking like she was trying so hard to quell the rising anxiety and anger brewing beneath her facade. Her hand clutched at her necklace, only the slightest tremble to her fingers to give her away.

"That remains to be seen."

She let out a breath as she sat down on the stool, looking as if she was a puppet that just had its stings clipped.

"Was it a guard?" she whispered almost silently, her gaze focusing on the blanket.

There was a long moment of tense silence before he finally answered her.

"No."

She closed her eyes in relief before nodding and getting back to her feet.

"Were you worried for my safety?" he asked curiously.

Alex turned her head back to meet his gaze.

Was it her paranoia that made her worry or was she actually concerned about him?

She doubted it was the latter, but a deep, dark part within her couldn't allow herself to deny his inquiry.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue to meet his eyes.

"That remains to be seen."

Turning away from him, she left to grab her supplies.

Completely missing the flash of approval that passed over her patient's face.

* * *

"DASIK!"

The killer, who had been sitting on a bench in the yard, looked up, seeing a correctional officer approach him.

"You have a visitor. Let's go."

Dasik's expression never conveyed his inner confusion as he got to his feet and followed the guard, unable to guess who could possibly be there to see him.

"Assume the position," the guard said right before they entered the visiting area.

Dasik held his wrists out for them to be shackled. The guard then led him into a small caged area with a chair facing the transparent partition.

A man who only looked vaguely familiar sat on the other side, already holding the phone up to his ear. As Dasik sunk onto the chair, his hands took hold of the handset and held it so he could hear.

"A mutual friend suggested I stop by and speak with you," the man said.

Dasik gazed at the man evenly.

"In fact he wanted me to pass on his gratitude for helping him catch the subway in time. His previous appointment fell through and his boss would have been even more disappointed had he been held up, too."

Understanding dawned on Dasik. During the fighting months ago, when the tide of battle turned against Bane's forces and Barsad had been shot, Dasik had forced him into the abandoned subway tunnels to escape. Narrowing his gaze, he looked at the stranger more closely.

It was one of the brotherhood. A lower ranking brother who must have been recently promoted.

His message could only mean that Barsad was still alive, gathering forces, and rumor had it that Bane was somewhere inside Blackgate.

"Do you understand?"

Dasik nodded.

"A lot of people have suffered your fate after that day," he commented. "Are you aware of how many?"

Again, Dasik nodded.

"Do you have means of communicating with your brothers?"

Brothers. The true loyalists, the trained mercenaries and assassins.

Dasik nodded.

"Perhaps a family reunion is in order. Our friend suggested that you get a system of correspondence going now. When the time comes, you'll all have to move quickly."

It would be tricky, but not impossible.

"I will come back for a visit when it's necessary. Until then, don't let this place put out the fire, brother. Our friend will make sure it rises once again."

A cruel smirk came to Dasik's face as he hung up the phone, the guard already approaching the cage to retrieve him.

The masked vigilante may have died to win the battle, but the war was far from over.

* * *

The doors to the infirmary slammed open, startling Carol so badly that she dropped the files that she had been carrying. Heart in her throat, she tried to catch her breath as Major Jensen stormed towards the gasping nurse.

"She's with him, isn't she?" he barked.

"What?"

"The doc! She's with that terrorist, isn't she?!"

Carol, too shocked to do much of anything, pointed down the hall, nodding slightly.

The door to the examining room was open, so he never slowed down as he entered the room.

"Get up," Jensen ordered.

Alex's body went completely rigid, but she continued her work, cleaning the wound that was finally healing faster.

"I'm busy at the moment," she said, tossing the rust colored, stained gauze onto the stand before grabbing a sterile one and going back to Bane's hip.

The patient was watching the guard, completely at ease as the doctor worked beside him while the officer raged at the end of his bed.

"You're always busy with him."

"Perhaps that's why they call it constant care."

Jensen growled and came around the bed, his large hand wrapping itself around her bicep and jerking her off the stool. Alex stumbled into him before wrenching herself from his grasp.

"Don't touch me," she spat. "I have to finish with him, then I will talk to you. Go wait in my office."

"I thought this was your office now? Hiding away with him all day, doing God knows what. Do you get off on having him cuffed to the bed? Is it a kink thing?"

Alex clenched her jaw tightly, but tried to keep herself from taking the bait, so instead she lowered herself back onto the stool and got back to work.

"You have five minutes before I drag you out," Jensen seethed, furious that she just ignored him. With one last glare thrown at both patient and doctor, the guard left the room and headed towards her office.

Alex took a deep breath as soon as he was gone.

"Are you planning on confronting him?"

"That's the idea."

"And you think this is wise?"

"Of course not. I'm fairly certain it is an incredibly stupid move, but he's hurting someone who doesn't deserve it."

"People always hurt those that don't deserve it. In fact, the innocents are usually the ones that pay the highest price," he muttered, unable to keep his mind from thinking of Talia.

"That doesn't make it okay."

"No," he said, his eyes turning cold as he focused back on the doctor. "The world does not operate on what is 'right'. It's about power and strength. Survival is predicated upon those attributes, until you recognize that and adapt you will never break away from Major Jensen's hold on you. His anger towards you has escalated."

"I have to try," she whispered.

"You owe those men nothing."

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze as she finished with the bandaging.

"You're all set here," she muttered, getting to her feet. She disposed of the soiled gauze and her gloves. "I will be back later."

Bane watched as the doctor left the room.

For such a small thing, she had entirely too much gumption when it came to the dangerous men in her life.

Too bad it would most likely get her killed.

She was kind of growing on him.

* * *

Alex opened her office door and went inside, seeing Jensen pace as if he was a caged beast.

His head popped up when he noticed her, his dark eyes narrowing as he went to lock her office door.

The doctor stayed still as the guard towered over her, trying not to make the situation worse.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked calmly, her head tilted back to meet his gaze.

"Do you know what my job is, doctor?"

"I-"

"Let me tell you. I'm charged with keeping the inmates in line and the staff safe, and besides the SNAFU that was caused by your new boyfriend I've done a fairly good job, but now I hear that the stuck up princess in the infirmary is telling my officers what to do. I've backed off of you up here. I've let you have a shit ton of freedom, mainly because I don't have the patience to constantly put up with your nagging, but when you start throwing my guards out so you can conspire with prisoners... that's where I draw the line."

"I was not conspiring."

"That's not what Hurley said."

Alex fought against rolling her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, taking a small step back.

"You expect me to believe a word you say? That you're worried about my safety? That you've 'backed off' at all? You're an misogynistic, evil son of a bitch, Jensen."

"What did you just call me?" he growled, stepping towards her.

She retreated.

"Where's Archie?" she asked, backing herself against the wall as he continued getting closer. She tried to move to the side, but he blocked her, his arms caging her between him and the wall.

"Where he belongs."

"Why are you doing this? I know you're pissed off at me, but don't take it out on him."

Alex cringed when she felt Jensen's hips press against her lower stomach, pushing her tighter against the wall. A cruel smirk played at his lips, his angry eyes leering down at her.

"And what are you willing to do to persuade me to leave him alone?"

She felt her throat tighten, her dark green eyes unable to look away from him even as she began to fully realize how bad this idea had been.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Why not? I know you've thought about it. I'll promise not to hurt you too badly if you play nice."

His hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing her head back at a sharp angle, a pained gasp escaping her lip. One hand gripped his wrist while the other pushed at his chest.

He felt her trying to knee him again, but dodged the move, swiftly kicking her legs apart so he was standing between them. He laughed when her nails dug tightly into his wrist, her panic rising.

"Go ahead and call for help," he taunted, lowering his face so that it hovered just above hers. "Let's see what happens."

Alex twisted, trying to free herself. Her scalp ached, but it wasn't until she could feel his palm sliding down her stomach that she wished she would have stayed within the safety of Bane's room.

"You know you talk so big, bossing me around, undermining me in front of the inmates and my subordinates," he said as his fingertips slipped beneath the hem of her pants, feeling her warm, soft skin and the silky material of her panties. "But its moments like these that the world is set to rights, when you're finally reminded of your place. You may be able to stitch some cuts closed and ice some bruises, but the truth of the matter is simple..."

His hand sunk deeper, his gaze watching as she clenched her eyes closed and tried to turn her head. Alex pushed at him, but it was useless. A small cry escaped her lips as she felt cup his hand, curling his fingers up and squeezing her vulva, the strip of fabric covering her was forced between her lips as he ground his hand against her, his calloused fingers rubbing against her heated flesh.

"The truth is," he continued, "you're just a warm body begging to be filled with a cock, a stupid whore in need of a man like me to show you where you stand. You think you're so much better than me, but if that were true I wouldn't be able to do this, would I?" he asked, one finger sliding beneath the fabric of her panties.

She cringed even more, fighting to keep the tears of panic and frustration from her eyes.

"Look at me!" he shouted, slamming her against the wall.

Alex opened her eyes, glaring up at him as her body continued to futilely twist and try to get away from his touch.

"What do you think, doc? Think I could make you wet? You hate me so much, but I'm sure I could still make you come all over my fingers."

"Fuck you," she ground out, her body trembling.

Jensen laughed as his hands shifted.

Alex felt her heart nearly stop when his finger slipped between her lips, brushing over her entrance just as the walkie on Jensen's belt came alive. She faintly heard a guard asking for assistance because of a scuffle in the mess.

"What a shame," Jensen sighed, pulling his hand free from her panties and pants. "... and we were having so much fun."

His hand rose and he forcefully wiped his fingers across her face, forcing the damp digits into her mouth before releasing her completely.

"Make no mistake, cunt," he said, moving towards the door. "This is my prison, and if you want to keep your little friends alive you'll do well to be a little more accommodating the next time we find ourselves in this position."

"And if I refuse?" she challenged, leaning heavily against the wall.

"The morgue will be a bit fuller, and I'll still take what I want."

Major Jensen winked at her before adjusting his pants and leaving the office.

As soon as he was gone, Alex rushed to the trashcan and vomited.

* * *

_A/N: Firstly, thank you for the reviews! Secondly, I know this wasn't necessarily pleasant to read, but we all knew that it was coming sooner or later. But don't fear. Alex is far from becoming a whimpering mess. Also, within a few chapters Bane will soon become much more than just a mere spectator. Now I just have to write it all..._


	8. Chapter 8: Self Defense

Disclaimer: Not mine

Warning: The usual stuff for this story. Language, violence, some NC stuff.

* * *

_Every war when it comes, or before it comes, is represented not as a war but as an act of self-defense against a homicidal maniac. - George Orwell_

* * *

"Are you feeling all right? You've been quiet these last couple of days."

Alex looked over at Gemma, her hands pulling her lab coat around herself tightly.

"I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

"Well this meeting with the Warden for one," she said, gazing back down at the paperwork before her.

Gemma came forward to see what file the doctor was looking at, only to sigh when she saw it was her main patient.

Bane.

"What did he do now?" the nurse asked, annoyed.

Alex tensed, her brow furrowing as a shot of panic ran through her.

"Who?"

"Him," she answered, pointing to the file, as if it was obvious.

The younger woman visibly relaxed.

"Oh, him. Nothing. Still a surprisingly model patient. Zehrhard just wants a status update."

Gemma nodded, gazing at the doctor.

"I've noticed you haven't been spending as much time with him this week. Usually you spend all day in there."

Alex swallowed as she gathered the files.

"Like I said, I've been busy."

The nurse wondered if the large beast of a man had actually listened to her. Maybe he was leaving the doctor alone, finally.

"Well, I'm sure the meeting will be just fine. I'm going to go take a quick coffee break."

"Have fun," Alex replied absently, crossing her arms over her chest.

Once Gemma left, she sighed tiredly before finishing getting her things in order. Disrupting the silence, her watch beeped, reminding her it was time to go swap out the IV in Bane's arm. With a deep breath, she rubbed her stinging eyes. It had been six days since Jensen had cornered her.

Six nights of nightmares about his vile touch.

She couldn't sleep. She constantly felt nauseated, but most of all, she was pissed.

Alex had never wanted to hurt someone as much as she wanted to hurt Major Brad Jensen.

Never in her life had she felt so powerless.

She couldn't stop him from touching her; she couldn't help Archie or the others.

It felt like her house of cards was tumbling down, and there wasn't a goddamn think she could do about any of it.

Another beep pulled her out of her thoughts. With a quick shake of her head, she headed out of the office.

* * *

Bane gazed at the doctor as she approached the bed, supplies in hand.

He took in her tense shoulders, the tired yet angry look in her eyes, the slightly pursed lips and furrowed brow. She had been avoiding him the last few days, never lingering near him unless it was absolutely necessary.

He almost missed the distraction she provided for him.

Almost.

"Shall I time you?" he asked, wryly.

The frustration on her face softened into confusion, her head tilting to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"You have been scurrying around this place like a mouse trapped in a maze."

Her spine stiffened.

"I've just been busy," she said defensively, using the same excuse that she had used with Gemma.

"You've been burying your head in the sand."

He watched as her jaw clenched and she turned her head away, knuckles turning white as she gripped her things tighter.

"I'm just... readjusting to some changes," she muttered.

Her eyes closed for a moment as she winced, obviously thinking of something painful before she took a deep breath and shook her head.

Collecting herself. She seemed to always be collecting herself, lest she fall apart completely.

"What happened?"

Alex pulled the table closer and set her things down before fiddling with his IV.

"Nothing."

"You are a horrible liar, doctor," he said, calculating gaze looking up at her before it trailed over her body slowly. She was closing herself off, turning inward. When he was done, he watched her face closely. "What did he do to you?"

She inhaled a little too quickly, brow furrowing just a little too much.

"Nothing," she muttered.

"Sit."

The natural dominance that he exuded forced its will upon the doctor with that one word. Without protest, she finished what she was doing and lowered herself to the stool beside him.

"I told you that it was noth-"

"Do not lie to me," he ordered.

Her large green eyes met his gaze for a long moment, and he began to see the cracks through her anger, seeing the pain and vulnerability that she was desperately trying to keep locked away inside of her.

Silence surrounded them, their eyes never straying from each others until she finally broke.

"We used to mainly just argue," she muttered. "We've never really gotten along, even before I worked here, but it has gotten so much worse recently. He makes me so uncomfortable all the time; there's just something wrong with him, but for years I've tolerated it. I was able to mostly keep my space from him, but he would always end up hunting me down. He would just bait me and push me until I snapped back, and it had been infuriating but manageable. He's always used his size against me to try to emphasize how weak and 'inferior' I am to him. You've seen him grab me and manhandle me. Even that I can deal with; I'm not some delicate little flower. It's always a game to him but now... It's different. He's actually trying to- I guess I've always assumed it would never really escalate to him-"

Her bravado gave out, her gaze pulling away and focusing on her hands which she wrung together.

"I don't know if it was a power play or if he really was planning on-..., but it doesn't matter. He cornered me, and I couldn't stop him. Do you have any idea how that feels? To be so completely helpless?"

She didn't even look at him, just let out the most cynical laugh he had ever heard as she shook her head.

"No, you probably have no idea what that's like."

Yet, he did. There had been many times in his life he had felt powerless, specifically when he was without his mask.

But she didn't need to know that.

"What is your next move?"

Alex picked her head up and looked at him.

"There is no next move. I can't tell anyone but you what happened, I can't just quit my job, and I can't hide from him forever."

"If an inmate came to you with a problem such as this, that another prisoner was preying upon them, what would you suggest they do?"

"I would try to get them moved to a different cell block for safety."

"And let him look over his shoulder for however long his incarceration is? I figured those would be the only two avenues you would think of for this."

"Well-"

"Running and hiding does not work, doctor. There is one thing that men like Major Jensen respond to, and do you know what that is?" he asked, observing her closely.

If anything, she looked more disheartened.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I won't like it."

He ignored her comment.

"Violence."

"But he's stronger and-"

"And I am not suggesting you challenge him to a fist fight," he replied, cutting off her excuses. "You are a medical doctor; you are familiar with the workings of the human body. Use that knowledge. You are the daughter of a career prisoner, use the knowledge of how convicts operate to your advantage. You don't need brute strength to win a prison fight. I was a mere boy when I was imprisoned. I kept a knife hidden inside a toy bear. Patience, speed, and accuracy allowed me to wield victory over the men who preyed upon me, men much larger and stronger than I had been at the time. Jensen will most certainly underestimate you now that he has scared you. That will give you the upper hand so the next time he touches you, defend yourself... or you could just keep wallowing in your own self loathing and impotence."

She glared over at him, but he could see her considering his words.

A moment later, she licked her lips and cleared her throat, shifting back into her professional mode.

"I'm having a meeting with the Warden after this. He wants to know how you are doing and I'm going to recommend that we start working on getting you up and moving around. Now, I'm no physical therapist and I can guarantee that the state isn't going to cough up the money to get you one, but I'm sure we can figure something out."

"And I will be allowed to walk freely?"

She hesitated.

"It's protocol to keep inmates handcuffed to the beds in the infirmary while left unattended, for the staff's safety, but at least you'll be able to move for a little bit. Besides, it may take some time before you are ready to walk around without help."

He leaned towards her, catching her gaze with his own.

"You underestimate me, doctor."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see who is right about that."

They remained locked in the stare, with him nearly looming over her as she sat beside the bed.

"Alex," a voice said firmly, pulling the doctor from the trance she was in with the criminal. She scooted back and looked over at the door, seeing Gemma frowning at her.

"Yes?"

"The Warden is ready for you."

"Thank you. I'll head over there in a moment."

Gemma remained glaring at the two, her arms crossed over her chest. While Bane looked positively pleased at the nurse's ire.

Alex, however, had no idea what was going on with the two of them.

"Was there something else?" the doctor asked.

Angrily, Gemma bit out a simple "No" before leaving.

Alex shook her head, brushing off the nurse's strange behavior while Bane lowered his gaze so the amusement in his eyes wouldn't be seen.

"All right, then," she said once she was done with what she was doing. "You're all set for now."

As she rose from her seat, his voice stopped her.

"So what are you going to do?"

"About what?" she asked, looking down at him from where she stood.

"Your correctional officer problem."

"Oh," she whispered, her brow furrowed. "Just keep my head down. I think it will be best for everyone if I just bow out for now."

Bane looked skeptical.

"And you truly believe you can manage that?"

Her spine stiffened while she crossed her arms and frowned at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's a fire inside you, doctor. It gives you the will to survive, to fight. Your mind may try to control it, but as Major Jensen tries to take more liberties with you, it will rise up. I do not believe it is within your power to deny the fire inside. You are a fighter. You will never be able to keep your head down because it is simply not your nature. You will fight against Jensen, you will defend yourself until you last breath, and even then, you will die fighting."

"You don't know me," she argued, suddenly feeling so very cold. "I will not jeopardize others. I'll endure what I need to."

She just didn't get it. She wasn't a martyr, she was a survivor.

"My mistake," Bane replied coolly, watching as she shifted uncomfortably for a moment before leaving the room.

* * *

Dark clouds ominously loomed over the yard at Blackgate Penitentiary, the gloom of the sky against the black stone of the prison walls added to the foreboding nature of the day.

The guards, hands on their belts, surveyed the area, ignorant or apathetic to most of the dealings occurring between prisoners, most of whom worked out, training their already hardened bodies; others played poker, swapping cigarettes as money. Some sat around bullshitting about past deeds or old girlfriends. To the officers, the day seemed as any other.

None of them paid any attention to the four men sitting on the bleachers, quietly speaking to one another in a foreign tongue as they gazed out at the other convicts.

To the unaware eyes of the correctional officers, they were just like any other group of inmates.

But these four weren't like the others.

Sure, they were murderers.

But not one of them was a rapist, none of them was a thief or crook.

These men were trained; they were mercenaries.

And all of them loathed being locked away with the detritus of Gotham City.

A man approached, standing in front of them silently before he slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew a book of matches and tossed it to one of the men. He caught it easily and looked down at them, opening the flap curiously.

Written on the inside was one word.

One word that led him to grin cruelly before passing the matches to the mercenary beside him.

When all four had read the message, they returned the matches to the man, their loyalty already given.

Silently, the man tore out one match and lit it, setting the rest of them ablaze before dropping the packet onto the concrete beneath his feet.

Datsik watched as the fire engulfed his message, the flames licking over one another, destroying the one, simple word.

**Rise.**

* * *

"So you want to get this monster mobile again?" Zehrhard asked, staring at the doctor.

"He's ready. Any more time in that bed and his body will begin to atrophy. I know you'd rather have him an invalid, but despite his many injuries, he will be able to eventually get back into the physical form he possessed prior to his accident."

"Yeah, yeah, and I do not want to deal with the crazies that come out of the woodwork when they think some infamous criminal is being mistreated. The protestors at Arkham were bad enough when they thought the Joker was being abused."

Alex nodded, collecting the paperwork she had brought with her.

"Dr. Connolly, tread lightly. I'm going to refrain from telling the guards about your newest project. I know that they can be a bit overzealous when it comes to showing the inmates who is in charge, and although I loathe to admit it, your patient has been a model prisoner and I'm willing to give you the freedom to continue working with him as you have been, but if I hear a whisper that you cannot control him, he will be put in the Tombs and Jensen will be in charge of his rehabilitation. Got it?"

Despite the threat, Alex nearly swooned in relief.

"Absolutely, sir. I appreciate this. Thank you."

He waved her out and she smiled while she left the office. She barely glanced at the mousy secretary who always seemed to be hiding behind her desk.

Walking down the empty corridor, Alex felt like she could breathe for the first time in days. Finally, _finally _something went right for her. The Warden agreed with her assessment and was even allowing her to proceed as she wished.

Maybe things will turn around, maybe this was the beginning of something good.

Turning the corner, a hand wrapped around her face, covering her mouth as a strong arm came around her waist, pulling her back into a large, solid body and lifting her clear off the ground. Her papers fell to the floor as she was pulled into a room. Alex desperately pulled at the hand over her mouth as she struggled to get away from the hold. The door slammed shut before she was shoved against the cold metal.

"Going to give me what I want?" Jensen's taunting voice whispered into her ear.

Alex clenched her eyes shut, unable to believe she hadn't hear the beast of a man sneak up behind her.

When she felt his hand shift from her hip to the fastening of her pants, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

"Don't fight it. I'll give it to you real good," he said, pressing his hips to her ass, rubbing his erection against her so she could feel it.

_Just keep your head down. He won't do it here. Just stay calm and don't fight. It will be okay. Just breathe and be calm._

He released her mouth, freeing both hands before fisting the waistband of her pants and yanking them.

Alex cried out in surprise and before she was even fully aware of what she was doing she swung her arm back, her elbow connecting solidly with Jensen's nose. A loud crack sounded in the small room, followed by an even louder bellow of pain. The doctor whirled around, covering her mouth with her own hands in shock as blood gushed over Jensen's lips, dripping onto his shirt.

"You fucking bitch!"

Alex snapped to attention and hurriedly fixed her clothes before dashing out of the room, swiping her papers off the ground as she all but sprinted back to the infirmary.

She didn't even stop as Gemma called out to her.

Bane watched as the doctor rushed into the room as if the hounds of hell were on her tail.

She closed the door and leaned back on it, letting her files fall to the floor as she rested her head back and covered her face with her hands. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to catch her breath.

He waited patiently, eyeing her curiously as she let out a nearly hysterical laugh.

"You were right," she muttered, chuckling with self deprecation as she moved to sit beside him.

Bane merely observed her as she shook her head, rolling her eyes at her own actions.

"I broke his nose."

"Congratulations," he replied placidly.

"Thank you. I know I should be worried and remorseful but to be honest... it was amazing. I felt and heard the crack, all that blood." She smiled softly. "I'm not a violent person by nature, but after everything he's done."

Alex took a deep breath and let it out.

"Yet you still ran away."

"He's still a mammoth. A broken nose isn't going to stop him for long, just piss him off even more, but still, let me have my moment, however fleeting it is."

Another deep breath and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against the mattress as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from her body. Her mind was so boggled with thoughts that she didn't even hear the door open until the intruder spoke her name sternly.

Alex quickly sat up, looking over to find Gemma staring at her, an almost betrayed expression on her face.

"What is it?" the doctor said, getting to her feet to appear only slightly more professional.

"Major Jensen just came up with a broken nose. You need to take a look."

Like hell she did.

"I'm actually a bit busy in here. Can you see to him?"

"What is it that you're doing in here?" she asked, glaring over at the patient.

"I need to inform the patient about what was discussed at my meeting with the Warden."

"Why do you need to discuss it with him?"

"Because, Gemma, believe it or not his rehabilitation actually concerns him,and I can't just drop everything because Jensen finally got what was coming to him."

"Major Jensen risks his safety for you. He deserves your respect and obedience, not this constant, unfounded abhorrence that you throw his way, and for what? Someone who would kill you if the mood swayed him? Can't you see he's manipulating you, Alex? He's separating you from your coworkers. He's turning you against me and the one person who could protect you from him."

Alex quietly gazed at the nurse, wanting to defend herself but knew that anything she would say to do that would seem as if she was defending Bane. What else could she say without revealing what Jensen had done to her, tried to do to her? There was nothing else to say so Alex fell back to one of the most important prison rules.

She kept her mouth shut.

"So am I to understand you are refusing to patch up Major Jensen?" she asked.

"His nose is broken. He needs a doctor."

"Then he'll get one. Just give me a moment."

"Well when you can tear yourself away from the criminal, he's waiting in exam room 2."

The nurse stalked away, leaving Alex sitting there as she stared down at the floor, her mind racing.

"I do believe that the nurse does not approve of your association with me."

Alex snorted, rolling her eyes before closing them as she rubbed her face. Slowly, she got to her feet and took a deep breath. The adrenaline from earlier was already leaving her tired.

God, she was so very tired of all of this.

"Doctor," he said, waiting until she turned and met his gaze before speaking. "You're about to go help the man who has hurt the ones you care for, who has already sexually assaulted you and will soon attempt to rape you the next chance he gets. Remember the fear and vulnerability that he made you feel, the tight grip of panic that settled like a vice around your heart when you felt his body against yours. Remember that and, perhaps, give yourself the opportunity to make your case against him as he is bleeding and broken in front of you. He's not the only one with power within these walls. Take advantage of this chance to show him what you wield."

She was quiet for a long moment, staring at him as her hands clutched at her lab coat. Finally, her gaze dropped just slightly as she cocked her eyebrow.

Bane smothered the urge to smirk as he watched the idea spark in her mind.

"I'll keep it in mind," she muttered finally, turning and leaving the room.

As Alex made her way to the exam room, she slowed to a stop beside the supply closet. She hesitated outside the door. There were more than enough concoctions to render the guard defenseless in there. She'd have her pick.

Licking her lips nervously, she glanced over at the nurse's station, seeing that they, as well as the orderlies and guards, were gone.

This did not bode well for her.

With a deep breath, she gripped her necklace tightly before looking down at the one pendant of St. Luke, the patron saint of physicians. Although she wasn't a devout Catholic by any means, it was part of her heritage since her father had always taken her to mass. It had been the few times they had gotten away from her mother. Her father had told her that it was important to ask for forgiveness, that even though what he did was wrong, that he knew it wasn't right, his conscience wouldn't let him rest until he asked for forgiveness. Despite his lengthy career as a criminal and thief, her father had never once hurt another person. That fact was something he prided himself on, since he viewed his profession as the only means to provide for his family.

He was merely doing what he had to do to survive.

Alex pulled away from the closet door.

That was not survival. What lay within that room was a path for revenge. Bane could feed her all the lines he wanted to about power and strategy, but she knew the difference between right and wrong, even for a piece of scum like Jensen.

She took another deep breath and squeezed the other pendent, one of St. Dismas, the patron saint of prisoners, as she made up her mind.

How could she help them if she became one of them? She had sworn an oath to do no harm, she had promised her father to never follow in his footsteps, and she would not let the manipulative and tempting words of a warmongering sociopath lead her into a downwards spiral.

Her hand shook as she walked to the exam room and gripped the doorknob, opening the door.

The lights in the exam room were off as she entered the room and shut the door behind her.

She heard him before she saw him, rushing her and backing her against the door. Alex raised her hands up in front of her, as if surrendering.

"Brad, wait," she gasped, shutting her eyes and flinching as she felt his arms cage her between them.

There had to be a way to calm the storm raging between them. Violence and words of spite were only making it worse, revenge for being molested by him would only make things much, much worse. She had to try a different method, and although she abhorred thinking about it, she knew that his weakness was also the object of his hatred: her. She just had to walk the fine line between reaching him and pushing him.

A large, rough hand gripped her chin tightly, slamming her head back against the door.

"Open your eyes and look at what you fucking did to me!"

Slowly, she did as she was told, staring up at his bloody face, where the crimson blood had streamed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking into his eyes, making sure her own were wide and as non-threatening as possible.

"Bullshit!" he spat, tightening his hold on her jaw.

Calmly, she raised her hand and took hold of his wrist, but she didn't pull or tug him away, just held on to him.

"I'm not lying. I hate the way things are... between us," she said, faltering slightly as she forced herself to keep eye contact. "What happened? It wasn't always like this. It used to be better, right?"

The immediate fury in his gaze softened into a more manageable frustrated anger at her docile demeanor and voice. His hold on her shifted so he could cup the side of her face, his fingers sliding up into hair.

"You've always hated me. All I've ever tried to do was help you, and you've despised me for it."

"That's not true. You just..." she shut her eyes and lowered her head as the memories flashed before her eyes. "You were just so _angry _all the time."

"Not with you," he growled quietly, his thumb tucking itself under her chin so he could tilt her head back up towards him. Alex let her eyes open again, this time seeing that his gaze had softened even more. "I never would have hurt you."

"Then what changed, Brad? All you do now is hurt me. You almost ra-"

"No!" he shouted, cutting her off. "It wouldn't have ended that way. You would have liked it in the end. I would have made you like it."

Alex took a deep breath, biting the inside of her lip to keep from trying to escape him. He was so much more lost to this than she had thought.

"Besides," he continued, shifting his body closer to her, "how else will you learn your lesson? You overstep your bounds too much around here. No one else can put you back in your place. So I have to. It's for your own good."

Her hand released his wrist to press against his chest, trying to keep him from advancing even more.

"Don't," she whispered. "Regardless of your reasoning, if you ever do that to me, I will hate you. So please, Brad, don't. There has to be some middle ground here. Surely, we can agree to some ground rules and just be done with it. We won't have to even be around each other at all if we plan it right."

He practically snarled at her, but thankfully moved away, pacing around the little exam room while she remained against the door.

"Goddammit, Alex. You're such a fucking bitch sometimes."

"What?" she asked, just barely keeping herself from yelling back.

"We get close and then you just shove me away from you without a thought."

"No!" she said, losing her patience with him. "We have _never _been close. You have tried to control me with your misogynistic and toxic ways since day one. You have hurt me physically and emotionally. You have threatened my safety, tried to blackmail me into your bed and under your rule. I have done everything in my power to try to tell you that we will _never _be together like that. I have tried being mean, I have tried being understanding and polite, but I swear to God, Brad, I'm running out of options here. Just tell me, _please_, what do I have to do to get you to understand that I will never, ever, accept you into my life?"

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze intense. His silence stretched even longer, making her fidget with apprehension.

"I believe you have just made this situation clear to me," he said, voice low but monotone. He walked over and sat upon the examining table.

"I did?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Now, do you think you could fix the damage you've done to my nose?"

Alex licked her lips again, but moved forward warily, walking up to him and hesitating a moment before placing her hands on his face.

The tense silence lingered as she set his nose and splint it, then wiped away the traces of blood.

"All done."

"Yes, we are."

With that, he rose to his feet and left the room, leaving her standing there in a shocked, but hesitantly happy state.

Was that really it?

Was she finally free from him?

If it were only ever that easy.

For this was merely the eye of the storm.

* * *

A/N: I'll be honest. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I needed to end it there mainly because I couldn't figure out where this one was ending and the next chapter was beginning. I don't think that made sense, but it is what it is. I'm already working on the next update where the plot line is moving again, but I hoped this chapter helped in shaping the Alex/Jensen animosity a little better. Please review and let me know. Thanks!


End file.
